Unstable Elements
by iheartfictionalbadguys
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts Harry begins having trouble with his magic. Bad luck follows him as he starts to understand the repercussions of being the master of death. Now, starting his auror training he finds something out that will change his entire life. Lies that have been told are uncovered, and some truths ruin lives. AU ,OOC, ManipulativeDumbles,potter's not a potter?
1. Chapter 1

A/n - This story is AU. Several characters will be OOC. But then that is why we write fan fiction. This follows canon up until right after the battle of Hogwarts. I have no beta so there's that. Now for one long warning, this story contains things in various chapters that might offend some so here's a list - Dark magics, violence, murder, manipulative Dumbledore, adult language, child abuse, mentions of a suicide attempt, an attempted assault, innuendo and ron being ron. So, in short if Dumbledore, Ron and Ginny are your favorite characters this might not be for you. All characters, ideas, pretty much anything at all-is property of J.K. Rowling.

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December 3rd 1998

He had read somewhere that the only things you had to do in life were pay tax's and die. One of those things were true.

Having the freedom to finally live his own life, that was his only motivation. It still wasn't safe for him to run around alone in the magical areas of London. That was how he ended up in a muggle pub, now normally he would have had some kind of entourage but tonight he was alone. His friends and those that were happy with how the war ended couldn't stop tripping over themselves for him. In their celebrations no one had really stopped to ask him how he really was. If they had, he might have admitted to being troubled.

When he had come back from death and defeated Voldemort—he hadn't noticed. It was the morning after that he felt it, the extra power. His magic was like a pulsing entity thriving in his veins. He didn't even need a wand. After a couple of days he found that mere desire would grant him results if he was completely focused. The first instinct had been to get rid of the elder wand. So, he put the death stick in Dumbledore's tomb. It wouldn't be immediate he told himself, but was sorely disappointed when the next morning found him able to non-verbally summon the morning paper—wand-less of course.

Others would have reveled in the bottomless well of magic he seemed to have come into, but it made him nervous. What was different? With those heavy thoughts in mind he put himself under a glamor and made his way across London to a small muggle pub. After a couple of hours he was good and pissed. Too intoxicated to apparate he decided to hail a muggle cab, and stay the night in a hotel. He was so drunk he didn't notice the man that walked out of the alley as he passed along on the sidewalk. Nor did he immediately react when the man grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground. Who expects that? After being chased by the darkest wizard for a hundred years, well muggles just don't rank. Or, they didn't—up until the man pulled a gun and demanded Harry's wallet.

He had been conditioned to overlook all kinds of violent behavior, that was probably why he complied without a fight. Giving the man his wallet, Harry honestly thought the muggle would go away. But, instead he pulled the trigger. He was struck in the chest right over his heart, there was no pain really. That had surprised Harry, he always imagined getting shot would hurt something awful—of course that was before he had experienced the cruciatus. There was so much blood. It arched from his chest in a spray that went high enough from his body to paint his would be killer's face. The muggle ran away then and left him there. Dark spots began to cloud his sight, and a chill crept over his body as he shut his eyes.

It was dark. It was dark and he was really cold. Blinking his eyes owlishly, Harry tried to remember where he was. He'd gone out to a pub and got one on and then—and then that muggle had shot him. "Bloody hell," Harry jerked and tried to sit up. He smacked his head against something cold and hard. Bringing his hands to his forehead he rubbed the already raised flesh, "Shit."

Every muscle grew taught with panic as adrenaline rushed through his body. Using his hands he felt along the smooth surface above him—it felt like metal? His breathing became ragged as he continued to explore the space he found himself in. Using his feet which he noted were bare, he kicked at the other end. The tray like thing he laid on shifted with a clang as it moved a slight bit forward. Harry screamed at the top of his lungs and beat at the sides of the enclosure. Bright light burned his eyes as a door opened at his feet. Harry found himself staring into the face of a middle-aged man in a white lab coat. The short stout balding man looked utterly terrified.

"Where am I?" Harry asked. The man in the lab coat took a harsh breath and grabbed at his chest before falling to the ground. Managing to squirm out of the oblong metal box, his feet finally found purchase against the cold gray tiles of the floor. Next to his right foot, laid the body of the man who had opened the door. The man's face was devoid of all color, his greyish blue lips pulled back from his teeth as though he would scream in fright. He was quite dead. At first Harry wondered what the man had been so scared of—after all—he wasn't the one that woke up in a box. But, then after having a look around the rest of the room—he understood. The dead man on the ground was a morgue attendant, and Harry was supposed to be—dead? Everyone else in the room certainly was. He eyed the wall of square doors in front of them, all tagged with numbers. His door said #135, it matched the tag he saw tied to his left big toe.

Harry's mind raced through several things. He had always healed faster than anyone he knew—and that was before he had all this extra power, maybe the wound hadn't been that bad—and his magic had healed him? That felt false to him, but then when he had actually died, he had seen his family and then king's cross—this time there wasn't anything he could remember. It was just a big black spot of nothingness in his mind, like a night after taking dreamless sleep.

"I have to get out of here," he mumbled in blind panic. He knew his clothes had been ruined but where were they and his wand? "Accio clothes, accio wand," he whispered. A rattling to his right caught his attention. There was another set of drawers each numbered. He quickly found where his things were and grabbed his personal effects. A quick incendo got rid of the ruined shirt. He put on the blood stained pants and pocketed his wand, taking a deep breath before he apparated back to the edge of the wards on his house.

Looking down at his chest he marveled at the clean unblemished flesh, there wasn't even a scar. With a flick of his wrist and one silent scourgify later, his pants were free of blood. Ambling up the stairs he flew through the door and slammed it behind him. Leaning against it he shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath. He made his way into the dinning room sneering at the mess strewn about the room. Ron had moved in with him a month ago, and Harry was beginning to regret having invited him to do so. There was no doubt that Ron was slob. "Ron are you here?" he called out.

Sitting down at the table he grabbed the daily prophet and read the front page. December 5th, it read in bold letters right there at the top. "Tempus," he uttered.

_1:24 pm, December 5__th_Harry stared at the glowing letters that hung in the air until they faded away—he'd lost an entire day. He was almost glad Ron was out. Normally he'd go to Dumbledore with a problem of this magnitude, but now? He wasn't sure who he could talk to about this. Would they even believe him? With the decision to keep this to himself until he could speak to Hermione, he drug himself up to the shower.

January 1st 1999

December had passed quick after his brush with—death? Ron and he had been fighting over every little thing. He supposed there was some adage about moving in with friends that he should have headed. If things kept up in this fashion he'd be sending Ron back to his mum, even if Ron never forgave him.

"Stop shouting," Ron grumbled.

"Who's shouting mate—get up!" Harry threw a vile of hangover relief at his red-headed friend.

While Hermione had insisted they all go back to Hogwarts and finish their seventh year, the two young men had decided otherwise. With all the loss on both sides, the ministry had waved newts for anyone who wanted to join the auror corp. Today would be their first day to report. It probably hadn't been a good idea to celebrate last night with firewiskey, but then the two weren't always known for solid thinking—that was Hermione's job.

Harry was sitting at the dinning room table in old Grimmauld place, waiting patiently for Ron. The young man in question finally began to wander down the stairs grumbling, "One of these days we have to get rid of those heads—they give me creeps," Ron shuddered. Harry glanced up at the elf heads on the wall. Honestly, he hadn't done much about the state of the place, they were rarely home.

"We could work on it tomorrow," Harry offered.

Ron pointed a finger at him, "I'm holding you to that mate."

"Oi, by the way did you ever figure out why your vault was refused?" Ron asked.

Harry narrowed his eyes thinking about his appointment at Gringott's yesterday. In all the excitement of the war, Harry had never gone up and claimed his inheritance. So it was quite a shock when he found out the Potter vaults were nearly empty. Ragnarok had seen to him personally, and had seemed fairly apologetic—for a goblin. He explained something to Harry that he had never known. Albus Dumbledore had been his magical guardian—and apparently Harry—had funded the war. Of course Ragnarok explained that Charlus, Harry's grandfather, had been the one to start throwing gold at Albus. The Potter patriarch had been giving Albus money even before the order of the phoenix had been formed. On the bright side, Harry was the sole inheritor of the Black family vaults and they were intact. So, while he had been somewhat angry when he left the bank—he still left a very rich man.

"Er, yeah—um, apparently I funded the war," Harry grumbled.

"What?"

"It's not something I really want to talk about, besides the money Sirius left me is more than enough to live on for the rest of my life. I just had to set up a new account to pay for the auror training." Harry had no intention of telling him that it all had to be consolidated into the Black name—and that now—he was technically Harry James Black.

"Right—well that's something eh?" Ron said with a nod, not really sure how to respond to that information.

The two flooed to the ministry and made their way over to the MLE headquarters. Kingsley Shacklebolt, ex-auror and newly elected minster of magic, was waiting for them.

"It's good to see you Harry," Kingsley said with a smile and clapped the young man on the shoulder. They followed Kingsley to the waiting room. Today would be mostly boring, a physical and loads of pointless paperwork—according to Ron that was.

A man in healer attire sat behind a desk. He looked to be around fifty—with wizards though it was never certain. His steel colored chin length hair was tucked behind his ears. He smiled as the three men walked into the room. The man introduced himself as Healer Angelo Ari.

"Everyone around here calls me Angel," the man added with a slight Italian accent.

Ron made himself comfortable in the waiting room, while Harry was led back into an examination room. Angel held a clipboard in his hand glancing through whatever information was on it with a furrowed brow.

"Well now, that's the most interesting medical history I've ever seen—and I've seen some things," Angel muttered.

"Yeah, my injuries have been diverse," Harry said with a grim expression.

"Truer words have not been spoken lad, now the first thing we'll do is our basic information diagnostic—it tells me your name, age, height and all that good stuff—OK?"

Harry nodded and watched as Angel waved his wand in front of him. Unlike his previous experience with Madam Pomprey, Angel's test produced visible information. Glowing white letters floated in front him :

_Harry James Black_

_ Age 18_

_ Height 5'7"_

_ Weight 135_

"Well that's interesting normally there aren't discrepancies on basic information," Angel said with a cocked brow. "I'm assuming you knew about the name difference?"

"Yeah—er, is there anyway that we could keep my name as Potter on all the paperwork?" Harry asked. Angel gave a nod.

"According to your paperwork you're nineteen correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Hmm, I've never had this happen before," Angel seemed to be lost in thought for a minute. Eventually shrugging it off the healer continued with his tests. After twenty minutes or so he wrote all of the results down and turned back to Harry. The healer was eying him like a bug to dissect, Harry squirmed in his seat, "Is there a problem?"

"Problem?" Angel grunted. "No that would imply only one thing was wrong," the healer frowned and made his way over to a set of massive cabinets along the wall. Harry watched as Angel pulled out potion after potion and gulped—surely those weren't all for him—that was ridiculous. He'd never felt healthier in his life, sure he was still on the scrawny side but that was it. Angel summoned a piece of parchment and began writing names of potions and directions down. He handed the completed list to Harry and his eyes bugged out, "What is all this?"

"The first thing I need you to do is drink this," Angel handed him a small purple vile.

"You have evidence of multiple obliviations and more than one compulsion—this will aid with the correction, after you leave here I'm sending you on to St Mungo's to see a mind healer. They will reverse the damage done."

Harry paled at the man's words—_multiple obliviations_. He sat in shock as Angel made his way down the list. Complications with his bone density and eyesight from extreme malnutrition, were not really a surprise to Harry. But, his head was reeling still at the evidence that his memories had been tampered with. "How long have you had those particular glasses?" Angel asked.

"um, maybe ten years," Harry said in a near whisper.

"Can I see them for a second?"

"Sure," Harry handed Angel the glasses and squinted at the man.

Angel handed him a second potion, "This will correct your eyesight," after giving him the potion , Angel walked over to the counter and sat the glasses down waving his wand over them.

"I wasn't aware the there was a quick fix for sight problems," Harry mumbled.

"Son, I think there's a lot that people have hidden from you," He said with a shake of his head as he glared at the glasses in front of him. "These glasses are cursed who gave them to you?"

"My muggle aunt," Harry whispered.

"You don't say—your _muggle_ aunt, well now that is interesting isn't it?"

"What—What curse is on them?" Harry stuttered staring off into space.

"I've never seen anything like it, In many ways it looks like a confundus," Angel turned back to Harry and conjured a pair of sunglasses. "Your eyes will be sensitive the rest of the afternoon wear these when you go out. You should feel fine tomorrow morning, as for the glasses I plan on having the unspeakables look at them later if that's OK with you."

"Yeah." Harry was beyond unsettled, who had done this to him?

"Er, sir—if eyesight is corrected with one potion, why would any witch or wizard wear glasses?"

Angel gave him what looked like a nod of approval, "And that's why you're going to make a fine auror. The answer is simple—they wouldn't." Angel scratched his chin, a nervous habit he'd never been able to shake, "Glasses are worn with charms, typically to see through disillusionment and invisibility cloaks."

"I see," Harry said. And, he did—thinking back to his first year when the headmaster had been able to see him while under his invisibility cloak. At the time Harry had thought it was a testament to how much power the man had, but now he understood.

In the end he walked out of the room with an immediate appointment at St Mungos obliviators department, some super nutritional potions and a slightly different version of skelegrow. Angel had told him that Harry could possibly grow as much as six inches by the end of the thirty day regiment.

~ 0 ~

Late that same evening found Harry curled up in a ball on his bed. Four hours with the St Mungo's mind healers and obliviators had left him utterly exhausted and completely enraged. Fourteen obliviations, memory charms and three compulsions, that was what they had found. There was no way for anyone to figure out what the compulsions had been for, they could only remove them. Now, Harry was trying to integrate his lost memories. They had said most of it would happen while he was sleeping, but he was having a hard time falling asleep. With a sigh he reached over for the vile of dreamless sleep on his nightstand and chugged a dose.

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke, was that his eyesight was perfect. The second thing to happen was a shooting pain through his head. He gasped and put his hands over his eyes as a memory flashed.

_A petite blonde woman was sitting in a rocking chair in what looked to be a nursery. She held a baby in her arms. Leaning over slightly to kiss the infants head she cooed, "Mummy loves you so much."_

_ She was startled when a siren went off. A tall man with black hair ran into the room._

_"The wards were tripped, take Dorian and go," the man said._

_ Grabbing a golden coin from her pocket she whispered, "Portus." When nothing happened she turned teary-eyed to the man._

_ "Shit," The dark haired man cursed and ran to the door, "I'll go grab a broom just wait here."_

_ The baby began to cry, his mothers attempts at quieting the child seemed to have the opposite effect. Even over the infants wailing screams of multiple curses could be heard. The woman began to hyperventilate as she backed away from the door. Two male voices beyond the door continued to scream curses at one another. After a few minutes of fighting one man yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA." The vile curse was followed by a loud thump, as something heavy to the ground._

_ Tears began to slide down her face as she backed into the wall and then slumped down to the floor, rocking back and forth with her child still clutched firmly in her hands she mumbled, "No—no."_

_ Severus Snape stormed into the room with his wand pointed at the woman and child, "Obliviate."_

Harry opened his eyes with a gasp. What the hell was that? He cried out as he was hit with another memory.

_Albus Dumbledore stood in a darkened nursery hovering over a small boy that didn't look much past a year old. A tear ran down his cheek. He removed his glasses and put them in his pocket before wiping his face. "I'm so very sorry," he said. His voice heavy with emotion. While the boy watched quietly from his crib, Dumbledore appeared to be setting up some sort of ritual. Candles were placed in a circle around the crib. He pulled a vile from his pocket and forced the child to drink it. The boy's wide silver eyes quivered, his body shook and he started screaming. Bright silver eyes shifted to an almost inhuman green._

_ Albus looked dazed as he cut a gash into his wrist and drew a symbol onto the floor with his blood. Standing he leaned over the crying child again a drew a rune on his forehead with a blood covered finger. Backing away from the crib he pulled a crown from his robe pocket and placed it in the center of the circle. He chanted in Latin for several moments until a black mist began to rise out of the crown. Albus let out a sob and raised his wand, pointing it at the child. A gash in the shape of a lightening bolt opened on the boy's head. _

_ "This the vessel," Albus muttered as he appeared to twine the dark energy around his wand and direct it to the boy's wound. Albus shut his eyes as the taint seeped into the boy._

_ "I will never be clean again," Albus whispered and rubbed his eyes. Behind him the child's screaming reached an all new high, until with one last blood-curdling cry the baby shuttered and was silent. Albus leaned over the boy again, looking deeply into the bright green eyes and raised his wand, "Your name is Harry Potter," with the words there was a flash of light._

He sat up in bed with bolt, "No fucking way," he cursed before he fell back to his bed in a heap.

_"Boy what did you do?" Vernon Dursley screamed at the disheveled looking four-year-old._

_ "Nothing uncle," the boy pleaded raising his hands to shield his face._

_ Vernon advanced on the boy, his face an unsightly shade of puce, "I won't have this freakishness around my son," he said and hit the child with a closed fist. The boy dropped to the ground and curled up as Vernon kicked him in the stomach. The hits and kicks continued until the boys breathing became shallow. The front door opened, but Vernon was too busy to notice. A beam of red light hit Vernon. Alastor Moody walked past Vernon's body and crouched down next to the child, pulling a vile out of his pants pocket he held it to the Harry's lips, "Drink this son it'll help."_

_ The boy swallowed the potion while Moody held his head in his other hand, "Nasty muggles, don't know what Albus is thinking leaving you with these animals. Probably better if you don't remember this kid—Obliviate." _

Harry didn't bother sitting up when he opened his eyes. He let out a sob and closed his eyes.

_Five-year-old Harry Potter ran for his life as his cousin Dudley and Peirs chased him. Finally catching up to the smaller boy, Piers gave the boy a shove. Harry tumbled and smacked his head against the curb. He didn't get up. The two boys watched wide-eyed as Harry gasped for breath and blood pooled around his head, soaking the cement. In a flash of fire Albus appeared and lowered Fawkes to Harry. The bird was more than happy to cry for him._

_ A six-year-old Harry was vacuuming the stairs. Dudley crept up behind him with a cricket bat in his hand. He swung the bat at Harry's head, it connected with a loud crack. The severely injured boy fell to the ground and rolled down the stairs. His arms were bent at odd angles. With a loud crack Alastor Moody appeared next to the crumpled boy. Dudley watched on in horrified awe as the man straightened out Harry's body and then dropped some clear liquid into his mouth. As the injuries began to fade the boy began to beg Alastor to take him somewhere else._

_ "If only I could," Moody said and swept the boys hair out of his eyes. Turning his attention to Dudley he pointed his wand, "Imperio, you won't remember my being here, but you will remember that if you ever kill your cousin—that I will kill you—nod your head if you understand." Dudley nodded his head. _

_ While the darkness inside of the Harry's small space was normally a welcome change to actually spending time with his relatives—in any capacity—today the boy felt like a trapped animal. The Dursley's had gone on vacation with large Marge after padlocking his door. Nine-year-old Harry wasn't sure how long they had been gone. But if he had to guess he'd probably say four days. He wished they had left him with at least some water. He wasn't hungry anymore but knew if he didn't get out to some water soon—he was going to die. Long past this thought when things no longer made sense and his eyes hurt too much to open, the cupboard door popped open._

_ "Dear Merlin, I wish I was allowed to kill those filthy fucking muggles," Moody grumbled. The damage this time was great enough that Moody had to stoop down and carry the boy to the couch, where he spent hours re-hydrating and feeding him. Once the boy was stable he carried him back to the cupboard and shut the tiny door._

_ It was the second week of his first year at Hogwarts. Harry had always had terrible nightmares, rather than wake his dorm mates—he'd walk around in the halls until he was sleepy again. Harry paused when he heard two men arguing. Tip-toeing closer he could make out that it was Professor Snape and Headmaster._

_ "Albus with all due respect the child is obviously abused, just allow me to give him some nutritional supplements and have Poppy check his eyes."_

_ "I'm tired of arguing with you about this—of all people—I would not have expected you to champion the boy," Albus snipped._

_ "Champion? Merlin, what is wrong with you—this is only basic care—,"_

_ "Obliviate," Albus growled and stormed around the corner—running straight into the boy in question._

_ Harry Potter sat at a table in the school library, reading a book under his invisibility cloak. It was past curfew when Albus strolled in. He sat across the boy and whispered something. Harry felt giddy with a sudden sense of euphoric bliss. Yes, he thought, he would check out the mirror in the room next to this one._

_ "There's more than one way to be invisible," Albus chuckled. "Tell me Harry, what do you see when you look in the mirror?"_

_ "I'd rather not say sir," Harry mumbled._

_ Albus made eye-contact and raised his wand, "I insist."_

_ "I see Vernon and Petunia dead, and I'm happy cuz I know that means I never have to go back," Harry smiled._

_ "That isn't what you see Harry, There's nothing more important than family. And so you see yours. Love is the most powerful emotion."_

_ "I killed Professor Quirell," Harry sobbed._

_ "Obliviate," Albus mumbled. "Harry my boy, you gave us all quite the scare. At first I was afraid I was too late—it was a near thing, but I pulled him off of you."_

_ "Sir, there's something that just doesn't add up for me," Twelve-year-old Harry Potter said, as he faced down Albus in his office._

_ "What's that Harry?"_

_ "Well—er, it's just that—um, why would you just send Fawkes? I mean Fawkes can carry people—I know, but you never came," Harry finished at a whisper, all bravado gone._

_ Albus pursed his lips and sighed, without warning he pointed his wand at the boy, "This is your burden Harry, in the end it's only you. You will do as you're told and you will be brave about it."_

_ Just past Harry's thirteenth birthday he snuck away from the Dursley's house under his invisibility cloak. A couple of blocks away he pulled out his wand and called the knight bus. Promptly, the bus delivered him to Diagon alley. After wandering about for an hour or so, Harry decided he would see what knockturn alley was really like. As he passed a bookstore he'd never noticed, large hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him between two stores. He could feel the heat of the man's body through his clothes as he pushed him against a brick wall. Leaning in close the man whispered into his ear, "Awfully pretty to be out alone." Harry gagged at the mans rank breath and jerked his head back breaking the mans nose._

_ "You're gonna pay for that brat," The man hit him in the back of the head. Harry grunted in pain as his face smacked the pavement. "Get the hell off of me you bastard," Harry screamed as the man tried to rip at his pants. A shadow fell over both Harry and the man, "Now, now—not even a bastard like myself would allow this to continue," Lucius Malfoy said with a sneer._

_ "Mind yer own business," the man growled and punched Harry in the head again._

_ Lucius rolled his eyes, "Avada Kedavra," he intoned with no emotion._

_ Harry rolled out from under the man, stood and brushed himself off, "Thanks."_

_ Lucius' lips twitched, "What exactly are you doing here of all places?"_

_ "Well—er, I just waned to see what—uh—,"_

_ "Is that even English," Lucius snipped. "Oblivate."_

_ Sirius was gone. Harry didn't know why he felt such a deep connection to his godfather, in truth it was very difficult for him to love. But, he did love Sirius. Now he was stuck at the Dursley's, and he couldn't even owl his friends. Right this second if someone had ask, he'd have admitted to hating the headmaster as much as the dark lord. After hearing the prophecy he knew there would be no way out. He had no freedom, no choices, and honestly didn't think his life would be his own even after the war. Backed into a corner like an injured animal, that was how he felt. Empty, and alone. For two weeks he considered it, but tonight he was sure. It was best._

_ He filled the bathtub with water as hot as he could get it, then climbed in with his clothes on. The razor sat on the edge of the tub, taunting him. "I'll be free," he whispered and picked up the razor. The first cut burned, but he was numb by the second. He sighed in relief as he leaned back in the tub watching the water turn red. He blinked at the black spots in his vision, and smiled—not much longer. In a flash of fire the headmaster appeared next to the tub with Fawkes. "No," Harry whimpered, "Just let me die."_

_ There was no twinkle in the old mans eyes as he hit him with a stunner. "Fawkes if you would?" The bird looked from the headmaster to Harry and shook it's head. Albus sighed, and mumbled some healing spells. "I don't have any blood replenishing potion with me, but maybe being weak the rest of the summer will do you good. You disappoint me Harry, obliviate."_

_ "Who are you?" Harry asked the portrait._

_ "You're in my library and you don't even know who I am?" The man drawled._

_ "Sorry, eh—you look like Sirius, his father maybe?" Harry was just glad that whoever the man was he didn't scream and yell like the portrait of Walburga._

_ "I do not look like Sirius, my son looks like me—brat," the man smirked, "I'm Orion."_

_ "I always liked all the constellation names in your family—er, well Sirius was an awesome name," Harry blushed as he continued to babble. Orion rolled his eyes at the boy._

_ "Indeed, perhaps now you might tell me who you are, and how you got in here?" Orion asked._

_ "Harry Potter, sir—and well, I walked in—how else would I get in here?"_

_ "A Potter? Unlikely, while it's true that Dorea lowered herself to marry into that family," Orion sneered, "Only a Black can enter my library," Orion's blue eyes narrowed as he looked over Harry to the doorway. Albus stood at the entrance to the Library, a deep scowl on his face, "Harry could you come here please, I need to talk to you about something."_

_ Harry walked out into the hall._

_ "Obliviate," Albus growled._

Harry shook with anger as he lay in bed replaying what he had just seen, over and over they played. He didn't need this on top of everything else. Surprisingly he wasn't sad, he felt no desire to cry—what he wanted was to kill a man that was unfortunately already dead. A cold fury swept through his mind like a layer of ice. If this had been done to him, what of everyone else in his life. Were his friends—his friends? There wasn't a way to ask without telling them what he now knew about himself. Ron would most likely turn his back on him as was his track-record. Hermione was normally solid, but she was dating the ginger. And, Ginny? Her letters had gone from distant and short—to non-existent, he had told himself it was because she had just started her seventh year—but maybe it was something else.

~0~

Ron had been actively avoiding him since the day of their examinations. This had pretty much feed the seeds of doubt he had about their friendship. Harry was certain that Ron had his own set of unblocked memories. He had sent a letter to Hermione and asked her what Ron's problem was, thinking that he could get some insight from her. But, she hadn't a clue as to what was going on. Harry had been reluctant to tell her anything by mail. He wanted to look her in the eyes when he told her some of the things that had happened. She was incapable of really lying, the woman had more tells than anyone he'd ever met, and at this point Harry trusted no one.

February rolled around without anything else of import happening to him and for that he was grateful. He was meeting with Healer Ari today for a follow up on the malnutrition regiment he'd given him. Harry gave the man a nod when he entered the room. If Angel noticed anything off about Harry's demeanor he didn't comment.

"How are you Harry?" He asked.

"Fine," Harry replied with a curt nod.

"I see well—down to business then," Angel ran a couple of diagnostics and frowned.

"Seems your eyesight has been corrected as hoped, but you've not even gained a stone and only grown half an inch, hmm."

"It doesn't matter," Harry mumbled.

"It does—you and your health are important to me," Angel said and met the bright green stare.

Harry blinked and looked away, "More potions then?"

"Yes, I think so. Sometimes when a witch or wizard has a great amount of magic it can reduce the effects of magic done to them. So, I'm going to give you inhibiting bands," Angel walked over to the shelves and picked up a two simple looking gold bracelets and gave them to Harry.

"What do these do?" Harry asked.

"It will block the majority of your magic. I want you to put it on before you go to bed and then take your potion regiment. In the morning take it off and carry on as you would normally."

~0~

October 30th 1999

Ginny had broken up with him in a letter. She seemed to be honestly apologetic saying they had just drifted apart, and that somehow she had rekindled a spark with Dean. Harry wanted to be angry, but thought it was all probably for the best. He hadn't seen Ron outside of training since January, his faith in the Weasley family was waning in general.

This was the first free weekend he'd had since beginning his training. Today he'd set up a meeting with Minerva. She would be the first person he'd seek answers from. He said a small prayer to whatever gods would listen that she hadn't known. He really had no desire to go to azkaban. With that thought he rattled out the headmistress's floo address and stepped into the fire.

Harry examined the headmistress' office and sneered. It looked much the same as it had when Albus was alive, minus the silver gadgets he had broken after Sirius had died. Behind the desk was the portrait of the man he wished he could hex. The portraits eyes were shut and it appeared to be sleeping.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Minerva said. She motioned to the chair in front of her desk, but Harry shook his head and started to pace. "Did you know?" Harry asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Did I know what Mr. Potter?" Minerva felt a shiver travel down her spine at Harry's tone.

"All the things Albus did to me." Harry stopped pacing long enough to shoot her a glare.

Minerva shrank back from him, "I'm sorry Harry I don't know what you're talking about."

"Is that bastard's pensieve still here?" Harry asked.

Minerva gasped, "Mr. Potter what has gotten into you?"

"Pensieve Minerva—now," Harry ordered.

Minerva huffed and set about getting the pensieve out of its cabinet and unshrinking it, while she was setting it up—Harry was standing behind her with his wand pointed at his temple. He scowled as the silver strands of thought twined around his wand, then dumped the mess into the pensieve.

"Were you aware that all cadets are checked for obliviates and memory charms before they can begin training?" He asked.

She shook her head, "No," she whispered not liking where this was headed one bit.

"Yes, they do—now imagine my surprise at finding out that I had been the victim of Fourteen obliviates, and more than one compulsion—even my glasses were cursed Minerva." He spat.

Minerva looked truly horrified at his words, but until he knew for sure that she had nothing to do with it, he'd feel no sympathy for anything.

"I need you to watch these and then answer some questions." It wasn't a request.

"OK," Minerva leaned her face into the swirling liquid. Harry noticed that she jerked a few times as though she were trying to leave. He could only imagine which one she was viewing. Ten minutes later Minerva jerked back out of the pensieve so fast she fell. Her face was pale and clammy, practically green. Harry knew what was about to happen and he conjured a bucket and handed it to her just in time for her to wretch. In-between heaves she muttered, "No, no Albus wouldn't do that."

It was obvious that Minerva hadn't known about any of it. Harry sat down on the floor next to her. Placing a hand on her back he rubbed it a bit, "I'm sorry that I made you watch that—but I had to know."

Minerva turned her face into his shoulder and sobbed. They spent several minutes like that before the professor regained her decorum. She slowly got back on her feet and shuffled over to the chair behind her desk.

"The first memory, with the couple that were under attack—did you know them?" Harry asked.

"No, but the woman looked like she could have been a Malfoy," Minerva said in a daze. "but, that coin she was holding was one of the order's emergency port-keys."

"So, they would have been on the other side of the war?" He asked.

"Maybe, I've an idea of who we could ask but you won't like it," she said.

"Who?"

"The Malfoy's," she said and frowned.

"You're right I don't like it," Harry muttered.

"Take those out of the pensieve and put in just that memory of the couple, I'm going to fire call them and drag them with force if I have to," she grumbled.

Harry went about setting up just the first memory. Behind him Minerva fire-called Malfoy manor. A disgruntled Lucius Malfoy answered, "What do you want Minerva?"

"I was wondering if you and Narcissa could pop over when you both have a free moment?"

"What's this about?" Lucius was surprised enough at the request that he wasn't sneering, a minor miracle.

"Not something I'm comfortable discussing through the floo, it would only take a few minutes," she offered.

"I'll admit to being curious," he chuckled. "I will go find my wife and meet you in ten minutes or so, would that do?"

"Yes, thank you." She said. Lucius cocked an eyebrow at her polite words. Minerva backed out of the fire and turned to Harry, "I think this will work out better if you aren't here," she said.

"No, I have to know," Harry insisted. "Tell him about the check on recruits for memory charms , but please don't say this is mine."

"No, I rather think not," she agreed and watched as he pulled his wand out and tapped it on his head. He put his cloak on over that just in case and hit himself with a silencing charm before taking a seat on the other side of the room. As promised ten minutes later Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy gracefully walked out of the floo. Minerva greeted them both cordially which seemed to shock them.

"What's this about then?" Lucius asked with barely any venom.

"It seems that it is mandatory for all new auror recruits to be checked for obliviations and memory charms, and well one young man got quite the shock—he had been obliviated multiple times," she said and paused to take a breath.

"What does that have to do with us?" Narcissa asked clearly agitated.

"Nothing, it's just I don't recognize the people in the memory—well aside from Severus—so it would appear that this is something that happened to a family on your side of things," Minerva answered as calmly as possible.

"Our side," Lucius said in a snide drawl and smirked.

Minerva skillfully ignored Lucius, instead choosing to address Narcsissa—now would not be the time to end up in azkaban.

"I just want you to watch a memory it's no more than two minutes, and hopefully one of you will recognize the couple—it would mean a lot to the young man involved," she pleaded. She motioned them over to the pensieve and the Malfoys complied, both leaning over at the same time. Both were shaken when they pulled out of the memory, Lucius more so than his wife, "Whose memory is this?"

"I can't say," Minerva said and Lucius sneered.

"Then I can't say who it is," he drawled.

Minerva sighed and glanced over at the spot she knew Harry was hiding in, "Well?"

Harry stood without removing the disillusionment and walked over to the Malfoys, when he was right in front of Lucius he dropped all the charms, "It's my memory, who were they?" Harry asked.

"Preposterous," Lucius' entire face twitched and he shot his wife a nervous glance. Narcissa gave a tiny nod, "They were not a couple. It was my sister Lavinia and our cousin Ventus. The dark lord would not have ordered their deaths. He needed Malfoy money, for that reason alone I'm inclined to believe your side was behind the attack." Lucius spoke in a quite voice that promised death, "How is it that you came to look this way, are there any other memories?"

Resigned to show the man, Harry numbly placed the second memory back into the pensieve and turned his back. Lucius alone viewed it, at the memories completion he pulled back, a frightening glint in his eyes. Several emotions passed over Lucius' face before settling on fury. He turned swiftly to the wall that held the portrait of Albus. He raised his infamous cane and pointed it at the portrait blasting it with a spell, "Wake up old man," Lucius hissed as he stalked his way over to Albus. The portrait blinked its eyes blearily and met Malfoy's glare, "What can I do for you Lucius?" Albus asked.

"Did you kill my sister?" The question sounded more like a threat.

"yes," Albus replied in a barely audible voice.

"I don't remember my sister ever having a child, and yet I have just seen a memory that implies she did," Lucius said with vitriol.

"Indeed she did, Dorian was born on June 6th 1980," Albus replied.

Lucius paced in front of the portrait magic practically pouring off the man, "And why don't I remember that?"

Albus took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, "Did you know that Tom made six horcrux?"

Lucius hissed, "I did not, what did you do to my sister Albus?"

"She figured it out, poor thing—but by the time she realized the dire position she was in—well, it was far too late. She came to me right before Dorian was born and told me a very disturbing story about Regulus Black and horcrux."

"Was Regulus the father?" Lucius asked.

"Yes."

Harry growled and strode over to the portrait, "What did you give me to look like this," he said with venom.

Albus had not noticed Harry's presence, "H-harry I'm so sorry."

"What did you give me?" Harry screamed at Albus.

"Tenebris adoptionis."

Lucius face turned red and growled, "How the hell does the leader of the light pull off dark adoption and a horcrux," he glared at Albus.

"Dark adoption?" Harry questioned.

Lucius twitched, "It's a ritual that will replace a dead child with a stolen one."

Albus reach behind him and pulled open a door which caused his portrait to swing away from the wall. Behind the painting was a small safe, "If your uncle were still alive he'd know the password," Albus said.

Harry choked back a sob, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered and the safe popped open. Inside was a vile of liquid that looked suspiciously like blood. It was marked with a plain white sticker on which one word was printed, 'Dorian'. Harry slammed the vault shut and swung the portrait back against the wall. "What's this?" Harry questioned.

"If ingested it will reverse the adoption," Albus said with a sigh.

"Let me ask you this, if I were to marry and have children would they look like me as I do now, or would they look like the real me?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.

"The real you—as you say, no matter how you appear—you aren't a Potter," Albus refused to meet Harry's' eyes as he spoke.

"I will never forgive you," Harry muttered as he strode toward the floo. Pinching some floo powder between his fingers he growled into the fire, "Grimmauld Place." Right as Harry disappeared into the flames Albus whispered, "I never expected you to."

The three remaining adults were quietly glaring at Albus. Albus searched Minerva's face for any sign of compassion, "Minerva please, it was a necessary evil."

"No Albus it wasn't," she turned her back on the portrait and spoke to the Malfoys as she headed to her chambers, "I feel older than I'd ever imagined I could," she glanced over her shoulder. "I find myself needing to retire, do as you will with Albus and then let yourself out."

The Malfoys gave a nod and turned back to Albus.

"Minerva you can't possibly intend to leave me alone with them?"

"That is precisely my intention Albus, goodbye," Minerva said and left the office. She would find the portrait missing the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Unstable Elements – Chapter 2

June 1st 2000

"I can't believe we're just now getting around to this," Ron said with a mouthful of crisps. _I can_, Harry thought. Ron wouldn't come home until it was so late he knew that Harry would be with Orion. He wasn't sure why he'd done it, but as soon as he'd come back from the miserable meeting with Minerva—he had headed straight to the library. He poured his heart out to the portrait—told him everything. Orion was the only one that did know _everything_. The man was surprisingly easy to talk to. Orion's portrait was a mirror image of the library, he'd been researching what he could on his side of things for Harry—magic truly was amazing. So far neither of them could come up with an reasonable explanation. Last night they had been comparing stories they'd both heard about horcrux. Orion had been extremely angry when he realized several volumes of his were missing from Harry's side. He figured Sirius had removed them at Molly's request back when the order met here—supposedly to get rid of anything dark that they shouldn't be around. Now Harry wondered if that had been Albus too, after all only Sirius and Harry could get into the library. Orion made him promise to look for a few of the lost titles.

"Are you gonna help wrench this thing off or not?" Ron asked and motioned his head toward Kreatcher's predecessor.

Harry slipped his own crowbar under the right side of the mounting board, "On three—one . . . two . . . three." With a crack the board loosen from the wall. Ron managed to pull too hard and fell on his ass, the head followed. "AGHH! Get it off!" Ron somehow made look as though he were wrestling the inanimate object. Harry unable to stop himself, broke out into chuckles—that turned into a full on laughing fit. Ducking as the elf head flew through the hair, Harry continued to laugh.

"It isn't funny, it moved," Ron griped.

"It's been dead for fifty years," Harry snorted. "It's—It's an ex-house elf," he howled with laughter. "It's ceased to be!"

"You're mental," Ron said. "You really sounded like Sirius there for a second."

Harry's mood immediately plummeted, frowning he walked over to the next head, "Let's just get this done."

"Sorry mate, I didn't mean anything by it. You know, with the barking half-mad laugh and all," Ron offered with a smile.

"Yeah, it's just I found some things out recently that kinda brought that pain back," Harry said.

"Wanna talk about it?" Ron asked as they got ready to pry the next board.

"No not really, on three—one . . . two . . . three," Harry caught the board before it could attack Ron.

Ron looked a bit sheepish and squirmed, "You know I never asked you what happened in your own exam, but I found out some pretty awful things that day." He took a step back and sat down on the stairs. "It was bad enough that after I left St Mungo's, there was a Weasley family meeting," Ron practically growled. "I had to know if they knew about it—if they had—well, they didn't and that's all that matters."

"What did you find out?" Harry had wondered how many other people in his life had been manipulated, but could hardly ask before this without offering his own story.

"The headmaster came to see my parents a couple weeks before we left for Hogwarts. I was outside playing with one of dad's old comets. He came outside and gave me commands, showed me a picture of you, told me that I had to be your best friend," Ron whispered. "The worst part—is that there was this moment after I found out—that I just hated you, but that wasn't right. No matter how it happened you're my friend," Ron looked grim. From the look on Ron's face Harry wondered if that were true.

"He only got you once?" Harry asked.

Ron blushed, "Well, he uh," Ron stammered and looked away from Harry, "He made me forgive you in fourth year, when I was mad about that whole tournament thing." Harry couldn't stop himself from glaring at Ron.

Ron grimaced, " I'm sure I would have done that on my own."

"Was that it?" Harry's left eye twitched.

"Yeah, but when I told my family what happened they made appointments for themselves, everyone but Ginny, she was too busy with exams," Ron let out a shaky breath and lowered his head. "My mom was practically his puppet, she's not doing well at all—Harry _some of the things_ he had her do—and she never knew."

"Your mom's a good person Ron and if she did anything that was truly against her nature, then it wasn't her at all—it was that bastard Albus."

Ron shook his head in agreement, sighed and shook his head again, "He made her kill someone," Ron's voice wavered.

"He what—who?"

"Some Malfoy chick, I'd never heard of her," Ron ran his hands up and down his arms.

A chill crept up Harry's spine, his hatred for Albus grew, it settled in his brain and spread like cancer. A Malfoy, his real mother.

"Why would he have her do that?" Harry gritted out.

"Mum said that he held her and Snape under imperio the evening your parents were attacked. Snape was ordered to collect Malfoy and her son from an order safe house. Once Malfoy was there he told her that the only way her son was leaving alive, was if—was if she willingly died for him." Ron swallowed the lump in this throat, "Mum said that eventually Malfoy was _convinced_ to cooperate. Dumbledore ordered Snape to kill her, but the greasy-git managed to shake off the imperio. What's eating mum so bad is that, when snape failed, Dumbledore asked her to kill Malfoy—and she didn't even pause—cast an avada kedavra—my mum—the killing curse!"

"Why even involve someone else though, Albus could have easily grabbed Malfoy and cursed her himself?" Harry wondered.

"That's the really mental part. When Snape broke the curse he asked something similar, and Dumbledore said he couldn't risk his soul shattering, because he dare not mark the boy as his own—whatever the bleeding hell that means," Ron huffed out a breath.

Harry let out a shaky breath, Hermione would have understood the implications of what Ron had said immediately. "It means that he didn't want to make his own horcrux, killing an innocent in cold-blood shatters the soul."

"Well—it was a _Malfoy_—how innocent could she have been, I mean really mum was lucky that it was death eater she killed—too bad it wasn't ferret's dad," Ron said flippantly.

"You unbelievable bastard," Harry glared at his long-time friend and stomped out of the room.

"What it was a _Malfoy_, all of them are slimy evil snakes!" Ron watched Harry stand with wide eyes, "Why would you care?"

His retreat to the library was swift. Ron was already trying to apologize, but Harry threw up a silencing charm before locking the door with his strongest ward—not that Ron could even come into this room—but still.

"She could have been a death eater and still wouldn't have deserved that!" Harry grumbled and paced in agitation.

After a fifth pass a soft voice above the fireplace said, "Ronald again?" Orion sniffed and turned the page of the book he held, continuing to read. When he didn't receive a reply in due time, he sighed and marked his place in the book before returning it to the shelf it came from. "Well?" He inquired and walked to the forefront of his portrait, "Stop acting like a child and speak to me," Orion commanded.

Harry looked at Orion not really knowing what to say. Where would he even start? Everything that was supposed to be true wasn't—and the things that were seemed so wrong. Making the decision to get good and thoroughly wrecked he pulled the bottle of fire-whiskey out of the liquor cabinet and plopped down in the leather chair in front of the fireplace. "Cheers," Harry said and tipped the bottle toward Orion before chugging half of it.

Orion whistled, "Is that the hundred-year-old bottle?"

Harry chuckled and took another swig. Orion pulled out his own painted bottle sitting down in the chair that mirrored Harry's, "To getting good an pissed," Orion said raising his glass and drank it down in one go. Harry's mood became more maudlin with each mouthful of the fiery brown liquid, until the bottle was dry and his eyes were watery. He imagined what a life without Albus would have been like. Regulus had been a death-eater that he knew, but even still he thought it would have been better to grow up with a real family—even the Blacks. Hours went by while Harry replayed his life in his mind, thinking of all the things that would have been different. Eventually he fell asleep, the bottle dropped from his hand clinking to the hardwood floor and rolled away. The portrait matched him, as Orion snored, slumped over in his favorite chair.

Sometime in the middle of the night a wave a magic crashed across the room as Harry's wards fell. "Harry?"

Hermione stood in the darkened doorway and called out to her friend again, "Harry, are you in there?" She hated that the room wouldn't admit her. The mere idea of a library she couldn't enter was enough to drive the bookworm mad. "Harry?"

"Mpfh sleep," Harry mumbled.

"Ron said he was being an insensitive git again—well that's not precisely what he said, but we both know that _that's _most likely what happened, and well he couldn't quite figure out how to take down the wards you put up—so he flooed Minerva—,"

Harry snorted, "Breath Hermione."

"Are—are you OK?"

"No," Harry answered honestly.

"Wanna talk about it?" She asked and sat down Indian style on the floor, as close to Harry as the library wards would allow.

"Not really," he stumbled out of his chair and nearly fell over as he joined Hermione on the floor.

Hermione noticed the empty bottle of Ogden's finest on the ground and rolled her eyes, "You're completely pissed aren't you?"

Harry gave her a half smile and nodded, tipping over slightly as his arm came out to right himself.

"You can tell me anything, I'll always listen," she said and ran her hand along the outside of the ward that separated them. Harry shook his head and wandlessly conjured a glass container, using his finger like a wand he pulled several shimmery silver strains from his temple and placed them into the container. Handing the glass to Hermione he noticed her shock, "What?"

"How long have you been able to conjure wandless?" She asked and took the glass from him.

"Awhile," he mumbled. "The pensieve is in the study, probably wouldn't be a good idea to show Ron," Harry slurred with a shrug and fought against his intoxicated body and gravity to stand. Finally managing the task he walked back to his chair and sat down. The marble topped table next to him had only one item on it. A small glass vile with a white sticker, 'Dorian'. He picked up the blood-like substance and stared at it intently, what would he look like? Could life as a new person be better? No one would expect anything of him—he'd just be some random guy. Merlin, that sounded nice. No one cared where random guys went on a Friday night, they hadn't been involved in a war since they were a year old. They could have friends that were really friends—he shook his head, Hermione was his friend.

"What are you doing Harry?" Orion asked now fully awake.

Harry turned the vile in his hand looking at it in the light of the now lit candles, "Just thinking," he murmured.

"We discussed this, you cannot possibly mean to take something that you don't even know will do!"

Harry looked up at his grandfather and shrugged, "I'm tired of being Harry Potter."

"Quit being a maudlin fool and put that down!" Orion ordered as Harry continued to turn the vile in his hand. Their stalemate continued until Harry heard loud sobs coming from the next room, _it's done then she knows_, he thought. Hermione stood in the doorway tears dripping off her chin.

"H-Harry come out—_please_ come out," Hermione begged her voice cracking.

Harry uncorked the bottle and sniffed it. "Don't you dare take that!" Orion yelled.

"Harry what is that? Please come out!" she banged her hand fruitlessly against the magical barrier that kept her from running to her friend.

Harry brought the bottle to his lips and drank the whole thing. He grimaced at the taste, so coppery it was like swallowing blood, he gagged. At first nothing happened and then all rational thought left him as his body was wracked with pain a million times worse than any crucio. Twitching Harry's body jerked out of the chair and began to convulse on the ground, foam formed at his lips as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Don't just stand there you stupid girl! Go find help!" Orion screamed.

As panicked as she was it took Hermione a moment to understand what the portrait was saying, "Who can pass through these wards?"

Orion ran a hand through his hair and huffed thinking back to who was still around, "Andromeda or Narcissa—they'd be the closest and most reliable. Do you know them?"

Hermione nodded frantically and ran off to the floo. Having no intention of calling on the Malfoys, she floo'ed Andromeda Tonks. The woman had a hard time understating what the hysterical girl wanted, but once she cottoned on she was quick to step through. Unfortunately for both women Andromeda was unable to enter the library. "This is what you get for disowning people for no good reasons," Andy growled at the shame faced Orion. Andy made her way back to the floo trying to ignore the screaming coming from the library, and floo'ed someone she hadn't talked to in twenty years—her sister Narcissa.

A house elf answered the floo and was quick to retrieve its mistress. Andy was honestly surprised that Narcissa had chosen to come.

"Andy?"

"I need you to come through, please—I know there's a lot of bad blood between us, but I need you."

Narcissa leaned forward slightly but the fire wouldn't let her pass, "I can't go through Andy, where are you?"

"Merlin, Hermione!" Andy yelled.

Hermione ran to the floo, "Will she do it?" she asked and wrung her hands.

"She can't come through—who's the secret keeper?"

Hermione knelt down into the fire and whispered, "Harry Potter lives at number 12 Grimmauld Place."

Andromeda's eye twitched when Lucius walked out of the fire with Narcissa. Hermione took a step back and looked around nervously. A blood curdling scream brought everyone's attention back to task. Andy grabbed Narcissa's hand and drug her toward the library, "I can't go in, we need you to go in and bring him out—he took something we don't know what."

Narcissa walked into the library and gasped. Harry's body was contorted in pain. Only the whites of his eyes were visible as his back arched off the ground before a low keening wail escaped his lips. Afraid of what magic might do to him in his current state, she put her arms under his and drug him across the ward into the hall. The four adults managed to pick him up off the floor and get him into his bed, his body thrashing the whole way. Hermione floo'ed St Mungo's for help and let out a sigh of relief when the healer came through the fire.

Healer Smythe was confounded, she had no idea what her patient had taken and no idea how to treat him. Nothing worked. After a solid hour of various diagnostics that didn't turn up anything helpful, and potions that were immediately regurgitated—Smythe at her wits end—called for Healer Ari. Ari was familiar with Harry and his unique medical history. Angelo Ari hadn't been pleased to be roused at 3:45 in the morning. Ari spent ten minutes with Harry and came out into the hall where five adults stood waiting—extremely curious to what he had found.

"Well, I don't know what he took, but I put the bands on him so you should be able to give him potions and treat him normally now," Ari said.

"Bands?" Hermione asked.

"Uh, yeah," Ari scratched his chin. "Mr Potter has too much magic to treat normally, when I corrected the long-term," Angel caught himself and coughed into his hand, "When I treat him with any potions he wears the bands, I had them set at 80%," he gave a nod and sleepily walked back toward the floo, he was after all much older than this bunch—and it was four in the morning.

"80% what?" Healer Smythe was sure the man didn't mean what she thought he meant.

Over his shoulder Ari said, "The bands block 80% of his magic—trust me—it's necessary."

"No one has that much magic—that's not possible," Smythe muttered.

Ari chuckled, "You people seem to be forgetting that he killed the darkest wizard in fifty years—with a disarming charm," Ari shook his head and stepped through the fire back to his flat, leaving behind three stunned witches and one very curious wizard. In a word Lucius looked contemplative, the boy had his full attention—and that could never be described as good.

~0~

No one was quite ready to disperse, Lucius and Hermione didn't even seem to notice the others presence. As they both sat next to the-boy-who-lived-to-be-a-man, both contemplated his life thus far. Once Lucius had wrapped his mind around the idea of having that much power, he took a good long look at Harry—his eyes widened slightly, "No, he wouldn't have been daft enough to take that," Lucius drawled and leaned over Harry reaching for his face.

"Just what are you doing?" Hermione snipped.

Lucius didn't pay any attention and pulled up one of Harry's eyelids, letting out a soft gasp at the new color—Malfoy silver. Without a word he walked from the room and whispered something to Narcissa, whose eyebrows crept toward her hairline. The Malfoys let healer Smythe in on their discovery. The healer was more than a little miffed. It was unheard of for someone to reverse a blood adoption past two years. With every year the person aged the less likely they were to survive the transition.

"You didn't tell me your friend was suicidal Miss Granger, the chance of someone his age surviving the change are slim—Mr Potter must have wanted to die." Smythe snapped.

"He was upset—yes, but he wasn't _suicidal_. He drank an entire bottle of Ogden's, I don't think he thought it through. He said he was tired of being Harry Potter, _not_ tired of _living!_" Hermione spat.

"My apologies I should not have said that dear, it's just been a very trying night," Smythe offered and patted Hermione on the shoulder. She gave the healer a stiff nod.

"Well, he's stable for now and doesn't appear to be in too much pain anymore. These type of potions take a full twenty-four hours for the body to process. If he has a relapse you should be able to transport with side-along now or by port-key," the healer wrote up a prescription for pain should he need more and handed to Hermione before making her way out. Hermione was glad to see the woman go.

~0~

He was sure the knight bus had run him over. "Meh," Harry grumbled and ran his tongue over his teeth—urg, had he eaten something dead? Blearily he blinked his eyes until they opened fully. He didn't remember how he had gotten back to his bedroom. In fact he couldn't remember much past the whiskey. "Must have drank the whole bottle, Merlin," Harry muttered and pulled himself out of bed. His legs almost gave out under him, that was his first clue that something was not quite right. Throwing off the wrong feeling he shuffled into the bathroom for his morning routine. Looking into the mirror was his second clue, "Holy shit!"

His now straight sleek black hair fell into an awkward shag. He blinked his large silver eyes taking in the new details of his face. Briefly he wondered what Lucius Malfoy had looked like at his age, because if he had to guess this was it. He looked like a young dark-haired Lucius. Harry sneered at the mirror imitating said man and let out a chuckle.

"Merlin, I can't go to work like this," Harry stumbled out of the bathroom and practically ran to his closet for clothes. Nothing fit. Throwing on a bathrobe he made his way toward the floo intent to bug Mrs Weasley about resizing charms, when he stopped dead in his tracks. The Malfoys and Hermione were sitting at the dinning room table having tea and scones—had the world ended? "Maybe Hermione's under the imperious," Harry whispered to himself, though everyone at the table heard. Narcissa choked on her tea and Hermione shot him a glare, "Glad you're_ finally _awake," Hermione pursed her lips and jutted out her chin. He knew that look—he was in serious trouble.

"So, er—how's everyone doing this _morning_?" It was as much a question to himself as everyone else. He leaned toward Hermione and whispered, "It is morning, yeah?"

"Oh, we're fine—you know everything's peachy—we've only been waiting for you to wake up for seven days," Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry slumped into the chair next to her. "Seven days," he muttered and conjured a cup of tea.

"Harry, um—the bands are still on," Hermione said, her eyes wide. Harry glanced down at his wrists and quirked a brow, "Why are these on?" He pulled the bands off and a visible ripple of energy swept over his body. He shivered, eyes half-lidded, "Much better, I knew something felt off."

Lucius twitched, "You can wandlessly conjure with 80% of your magic blocked?"

"Looks that way," Harry gave a shrug.

Hermione squirmed in her chair, "You do remember taking that adoption reversal potion right?"

Harry laughed, "Uh, yeah—sorry about that, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I don't remember anything after I drank it—was it bad—what I'm saying it must have been if I've been asleep for seven days," Harry rambled.

"You almost died you giant prat!" Hermione sniffed and got up from the table storming off into another room. Harry was torn between following her and finding out why the ferret's parents were here.

"It's odd so I hope you'll forgive me for asking, but what _exactly_ are you two doing here?" Harry asked. His voice was deeper now he noted.

"You managed to take that potion in the one room no one could help you in," Narcissa sniffed.

"Oh—oh no wonder she's mad," he wondered how long she was going to stay that way.

"Have you looked in a mirror yet?" Lucius asked.

"Yeah, I have a sneer as good as yours now," Harry sneered at Lucius, and while he didn't seem amused, Narcissa made the most unladylike snort.

"Well," Narcissa patted his hand and stood, "You seem fine now—I think Lucius is going to want to set up a play date at some point, after all you're far too amusing to leave alone—he can teach you his death glare." Narcissa snickered as she walked away. Lucius used said glare on her and followed.

Harry sat silently sipping his tea watching as the couple disappeared through the floo. Never in a million years would he have thought he'd find the Malfoys and Hermione in the same room, unless they were actively trying to kill one another. Now it was time to face the music, he went in search of his friend. He found Hermione standing in front of the door to the library glaring, her arms crossed over her chest. "Mione?"

She turned her face away from him. He heard her sniffle as her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry," he whispered and put a hand on her shoulder, "Hey," he turned her toward him. She turned her face into his chest and sobbed, "Don't you ever do something that wreckless again—I couldn't—I don't know what I'd do if you were gone," she cried. Harry had never been good with crying women, dark lords were so much easier to deal with. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to off myself I swear," he rubbed her back and looked down at the top of her frizzy hair, "Um, Hermione—did you shrink?"

She leaned away from him and scoffed then smacked him on the chest, "No you're just a giant now."

"Guess that's why none of my clothes fit, speaking of—do you know the charm to re-size, can you even re-size clothes to be bigger?" He glanced down at his bathrobe and grimaced, much as he hated to it looked like shopping was in his immediate future.

"Do I look like Molly?" Hermione rolled her eyes and headed back toward the dinning room.

"Where's Ron?"

She sighed, "Ron moved back into the burrow—I tried to talk some sense into him, but—," she shrugged. "I guess you want to know what happened then?"

Harry wasn't sure he did, but nodded anyway. "I fire-called Andy to get you out of the library," she paused to glare at Harry. "But, apparently being disowned she couldn't—so, Andy called Narcissa who of course can't go anywhere without _Lucius_," she sneered. "Narcissa pulled you out of the room and the healer came, they all left as soon as you were stable."

"I had wondered if you had been left alone with those two this entire time," Harry frowned at the thought.

"No, but Lucius and _Cissa_," Hermione made a wretching sound at the nickname, "have been stopping by every morning to check on you," she rolled her eyes and huffed. "We need to recast the fidelius, so that giant blond ponce can't strut in like he owns the place—,"

"Hermione," he laughed and motioned for her to continue.

"Right, well Ron came home half-pissed and decided he couldn't handle your situation. When I mentioned the memories you had shown me," she paused and held up her hands, "I didn't tell him what I saw, just asked if he knew you had recovered some missing memories—that was when he told me about his and Molly's discoveries." She propped her elbows on the table and folded her hands up under chin.

"I made an appointment for myself and Ginny, that was three days ago, Andy and Teddy spent the day with you." Hermione grew still and had a faraway look in her eyes. She shook her head, "I'm fine—my memories hadn't been altered," her eyes teared up. "But, H-Harry," her voice wavered. "Ginny's had and I'm not sure if you want to hear."

Harry reached across the table and held her small hands in his, "you've always been my best friend, you've no idea how happy I am to know that all that was really you."

A single tear ran down her cheek, she shook her head and squeezed his hands, "I will always be your friend Harry, even if you do look like Lucifer," she shot him a watery smile.

"Yeah, maybe we could call him Lucy for short?" He joked trying to cheer her up.

"Yeah right, _Lucy_," she laughed, it was a beautiful sound.

"So what did Ginny find out?" He prodded.

"Dumbledore had conditioned her Harry. It started when she was five and he gave her those childrens books about the adventures of Harry Potter. She said he even told her once that she'd be Lady Potter, there were several points were it began to fade—like when she dated Dean, but he even went so far as to dose her with amortensia," Hermione finished at a whisper. He nodded not able to speak through the lump in his throat, "Does she hate me now?" His voice cracked.

"What? No! But, she's reasonably upset. I—I think that he knew she was possessed back in second year too, but left her wandering around like that, so that you'd step-up," Hermione rubbed her eyes. "What if that basilisk had been killing instead of petrifying—do you think he'd have still let it go?" She asked in a shaky voice.

"I wish I could say no," Harry dropped his gaze to the tabletop.

"Everyone at the burrow was pretty upset to say the least." She shook her head her eyes tearing up again, "He was one of my mentor's, I practically worshiped him—what you must think," she rubbed her eyes. He hugged her tight against his chest and kissed the top of her head, "You didn't know."

"I should have noticed some of that," she sniffed.

He rubbed her back, "You didn't do anything wrong Hermione."

~0~

Several life altering things happened in quick secession for Harry. He found out the hard way that he could no longer depend on glamors. His magic literally ate through them in a matter of minutes. So it was that they failed completely, and of course it had been in front of his captain. Luckily, or unluckily which ever way he took it—they were alone. After a fairly intensive interrogation he convinced the captain while under veritaserum that he was actually Harry Potter. Unfortunately he was told to walk, his captain wanted no part of the scandal his new found situation would cause. Harry agreed to leave after getting his old boss to agree to a wizards oath of secrecy.

The very next day he had tracked down everyone else that was in the know and made them vow to keep his secret as well. Ron was the most reluctant, their friendship now definitely a thing of the past. Harry was more than a little disgusted, especially when Ron was swayed with a bit of gold. After that task had been completed, Harry James Potter simply disappeared. Lucy had proven to be useful, and had managed to find his original birth certificate—and so it was he came to be Dorian Abraxas Black. Lucy had been more than a little smug when he saw Dorian's middle name. That hadn't been the only thing Lucy did though. Even after all his legal troubles the man was still a player at the ministry, which really didn't surprise him much. What had surprised him though was Lucius placing fake Owl exam results into the ministry files, and giving him an entire background that had previously never existed. Sometimes being related to a criminal had its perks. Of course Lucius never does anything selflessly—he was sure some time in the near future he'd have to repay the favor.

Hermione and Ginny had officially graduated from Hogwarts, he had attended as Dorian. Ginny still wouldn't look at him. He didn't think that they would ever even be friends again. In fact the only members of the Weasley family that remained what he would call friends were George and Bill. Attending the graduation ceremony with an unknown face was nice. The only stares were from admirers. Rita Skeeter even shook his hand when they were introduced and then went happily on her way to more newsworthy people.

Hermione had immediately taken an internship with the law division of the MLE, but had somehow found the time to begin harassing him about taking his newts now that he wasn't going to be an auror. She had even gone so far as creating a study guide for him that was of course—color coded. He'd begun to think she'd been given another time-turner. So that was what Dorian had been doing since July, studying. Orion was helping him when Hermione didn't have time, he had even begun to pick up ancient runes. They had been one of Orion's best subjects and Dorian had found himself really enjoying studying them as well.

- 0 -

"I've given this a lot of thought Dorian, and I can't help but think that the problem has nothing to do with the horcrux, and everything to do with the hallows." Orion swirled his glass of whiskey.

"I agree, but the only place I've seen anything written about them is in 'Beedle the Bard', and none of that is really useful," Dorian said, concentrating he turned the wooden ball in his hands into a calico kitten. His goal was to use as much magic as possible and see how long the feline would live. Before the extra power it would have held its shape for maybe an hour, he was curious how much that would be extended now.

"You said you weren't the master of death anymore, but I think you're wrong," Orion mumbled as he thumbed through his copy of the children's book in question.

"I lost the resurrection stone in the forbidden forest, the death stick is back in Dumbledore's tomb." Dorian conjured a ball of yarn and attacked the cat with it before throwing across the room. To his amusement the transfigured feline ran over to it grabbed the yarn in it's mouth and brought it back to him. "Well aren't you smart," he chuckled. The cat nodded it's head yes, and then smirked. Dorian's brow furrowed, he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not.

"Quit playing with the pussy and listen to me," Orion pouted.

"You're just jealous that you don't have your own pussy to play with," Dorian laughed.

Orion snorted, "What I was saying was, it doesn't matter where any of those things are—you mastered them, if you don't believe me call them."

Dorian held his hand out and called the hallows to him. Not even a second later the stone, the wand and his cloak dropped into his hand, "Not good."

"No."

"I thought getting all three items made you the master of death—I mean wouldn't getting rid of at least one of them work?"

Orion shook his head and poured himself another glass, "No, that wasn't what made you the master of death—well this is a theory at least, but no you used them to cheat death—who knows you may be the only person in history to have used them in that way."

"The items are fairly easy to master, all it took was a disarming charm for the death stick to go from Albus to Draco to me—I mean you'd think that one of the brother's would have mastered all three at one point," Dorian shook his head and threw the yarn-ball for the cat again.

"The story is just too much of a fairy tale, I find it hard to believe the Peverell brothers actually forged these things. A boon from death, it seems more likely that they made a deal with something—a demon maybe?"

Dorian tilted his head back in the chair and considered the idea, it had merit—the hallows weren't a gift—they were a curse. "The cloak has been passed down through the Potter line since it's creation, perhaps I could will it away."

Orion laughed.

"What?" Dorian grumbled.

"That's the dumbest thing you've said yet, by all means give the cloak to someone in your will—and when you _die_—it won't be yours anymore," he chortled into his glass.

"Fiendfyre?" Dorian asked and perked up, "That even kills horcrux."

Orion seemed to be considering that idea, then wrinkled his nose, "Don't try that in here, if you set me on fire—I will find a way to haunt you."

Dorian jumped up out of his chair and picked up the hallows. As he was leaving the library he noticed the cat was following right behind him like a shadow. "Stay," he commanded. The cat tilted its head to the side and kept coming. Dorian sighed, "I made you why won't you listen?"

The cat that had yet to be named just blinked up at him. "Right, well we're off to the basement then for a bonfire—try not to get singed." The cat's tail puffed up and it gave him an indignant look as it ran ahead of him toward the basement.

Dorian warded the entire area against fire as best he could and placed the hallows into the fireplace. He cast fiendfyre with as much power as he could and still control the blaze. Orange light filled the room with the intensity of the fire, sweat started to form on his brow and run into his eyes. Five minutes into the experiment he cast the counter spell. His mouth popped open. All three items were sitting in the fireplace as though nothing had happened, no burn marks—not even soot. The cat walked over to the fireplace and sniffed around, eying the items it hissed.

"Yeah, I don't like them much either." He muttered and picked them up to take back into the library.

"No luck?" Orion slurred.

"Not even a scratch," Dorian flopped back into his chair, the cat hopped up into his lap.

He watched as the ball of fur kneaded his legs and curled up purring contentedly.

"I think you may end up having to name the flea-bag," Orion quirked an eyebrow at the cat and poured himself another glass of whiskey.

"You can barely talk, maybe you should stop for the night," Dorian laughed.

"Why, not like it's going to kill me," he barked out a laugh and leaned his head back. The snoring was loud and immediate.


	3. Chapter 3

a/n - thanks for reading, and for alerts, favorites and reviews. Albus does make an appearance in this one so that might clear some of his nastiness up. no beta and I'm lysdexic - you've been warned heh =)

Unstable Elements – Chapter 3

June 5th 2001

Dorian held the chewed shoe in his hand and grumbled. The transfigured cat that refused to un-transfigure was a pest. He never saw the furry little demon anymore, only the evidence. Last month he had purchased a new house elf to help him get Grimmauld Place in order. There had been many elves to choose from. They were all introduced by name, he picked a quiet somewhat serious looking male elf. Hermione had taken the elf to task. She taught him proper English, basically insisting the elf act like a human. He had tried to argue with her at first, but in the end let her have her way. The elf took to Hermione's lessons with fierce accuracy and determination. Though she was pleased with the elf's progress, she couldn't understand why he didn't like her. The elf was probably the only one in the entire country that had a salary, benefits and days off. He was smug. The only arrogant house elf in history. Everything about the creature screamed confidence as it strutted about the house in its pressed black slacks, white button down shirts and miniature dragon-hide boots. Dorian chuckled when compared how the elf looked with its name.

"Socks," Dorian yelled.

Socks strode into the room with his head held high. The cat was wrapped around his neck like a stole. "Yes Master Dorian?"

Dorian fought the urge to laugh, "I understand that you're quite fond of the cat, but could you keep it from chewing on my shoes?"

"I will try my best to keep that from happening in the future, will you be needing anything else sir?"

Dorian numbly shook his head and watched as Socks fed the cat a piece of bacon, when had it started eating? He finished getting dressed and headed to the dinning room for breakfast admiring the freshly painted walls. The entire house had been redecorated and painted. All the wooden floors had been refinished, the furniture repaired or replaced. All dangerously tactless items had been removed. The basement which had been the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen, was now a warded training room with dueling dummies. The library was the only room that escaped change.

Dorian was in the middle of fixing himself a simple breakfast when Socks popped into the kitchen, "Miss Granger is at the floo, should I allow her entrance?" The elf grinned all its pointed teeth showed, truly it was frightening.

"You really shouldn't scare her on purpose," Dorian chuckled.

"Let her in then?" Socks boldly asked and quirked a nearly invisible eyebrow.

Dorian sighed, "Yes, let her in."

He carried his plate into the dinning room where Hermione was waiting for him, "You really ought to do something about him," she huffed.

"I'm not the one that taught him that, it's your fault—you wanted an elf that was free to be itself," he snipped wondering if she'd give S.P.E.W a rest now.

"Admittedly I may have made a mistake." Hermione rolled her eyes when Dorian snorted at her.

"Why are you cooking anyway, I thought that was why you got him?" She asked.

"Socks doesn't like to cook, would you like to be the one to tell him that he has to do it anyway?" He asked as buttered his toast.

Socks picked that moment to saunter into the room, "Would Miss Granger like some tea?"

"If—if it wouldn't be too much trouble, that would be lovely," she stammered and glared at Dorian for laughing. The elf popped back into the room with a tea service and snagged a piece of bacon off of Dorian's plate, "Hey! Make your own bacon," he griped. The elf snickered and broke off a small piece to feed to the cat.

"It eats now?" Hermione said with shock.

"Apparently," he nodded. The two sat in comfortable silence drinking their tea and reading the morning paper. The quiet was disturbed by a pecking sound. Dorian went to the kitchen window where he found three owls waiting impatiently for him. After he untied the letters he fed them each an owl treat he kept in a box by the window sill.

Before he could even sit down again Hermione grabbed the scroll with the ministry seal on it out of his hand. "You got your results, I can't wait to see how you scored," she said and practically ripped the scroll open.

Dorian had taken his Newts at the ministry last week and had been anticipating the results as well, though not as much as Hermione.

"All O's with an O+ in defense," she said excitedly and patted his hand, "Though I suppose having had auror training helped quite a bit with that one," she winked. "It's a shame you can't use that."

Dorian shrugged and took the parchment from her, looking over his results himself, "It's not really a big deal, I'm not sure I'd even want to be an auror anymore." Pleased with the marks he moved on to the other two pieces of mail. The first was a letter from Minerva inviting him for tea and a chat, he absently summoned a piece of parchment and a quill. Jotting down a quick note he rolled it up to send and glared at the last piece of mail.

"What's wrong—who's that from?" Hermione asked.

An elegant wax seal stamped with an elaborate 'M' taunted him as he lifted the scroll with a frown, "Malfoy." He broke the seal and opened it. A pulse of light encircled his hands and flashed. "What the—?"

"You really shouldn't have touched something that Lucy sent, that was stupid," Hermione laughed unapologetic.

"Was that a binding oath?" He said incredulously.

"Looked like, what's that say anyway?"

He read the thing and grumbled handing it her.

"Oh my, looks like _someone's_ going to a bonding ceremony this September," she cackled and threw the invitation back at him.

"Want to be my plus one?" Dorian asked and scooted away from her expecting violence.

"Not a chance in hell," she sniffed. "I'm surprised that was sent on regular parchment," she scoffed.

"What else would it have been sent on?"

"The skin of innocent muggles," she said with a shrug as though the answer were obvious and sipped her tea.

-0-

The thought had occurred to him earlier that day. Since he was being forced to attend Draco's wedding—and would most likely be expected to bring a gift—he'd get the ferret something muggle. Walking through the store, inspiration hit and he nearly cackled in glee. There in the section that sold kitchen items—an electric muggle toaster.

"It's perfect," he said with a maniacal grin. A passing shopper gave him a wide birth as Dorian admired the stainless steel contraption. After paying, he stepped outside shrunk the bag and put it in his pocket. For old time sake he summoned the knight bus. It had been years since he'd taken it anywhere. Stan Shunpike, who was once again the conductor, slide the doors open, "Where to?"

"Leaky Caldron," he said and handed over the fare. Today he'd agreed to meet Minerva there. The bus jerked forward at insane speeds. He turned his head to watch the city blur by in time to see the grill of a semi-truck. The truck hit the side of the bus, and everything including him were jarred to the left, before the bus tipped. Still traveling at quite a high speed, it skidded along the asphalt. The windows shattered and showered the inside of the bus with flying glass. A large shard embedded itself into his neck. The bus came to a sudden screeching halt as it slammed into a few parked cars. Dorian's body was thrown to the other side of the bus, the rolling bed in the back slide into him—pushing the piece of glass further into his already serious neck wound.

The world swam as he fought to stay awake. Pulling with what strength he had left, his right arm came free from between the bed rail and the wall. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the golden coin port-key he still carried, "Phft," he coughed out trying to say the activation. Closing his eyes in consternation he thought the word 'portus', focusing his entire mind to the task. His battered body slammed onto the floor in the foyer of his house, right past the front door. "Sssks," he rasped and grasped his hand around the jagged piece of glass. With a grunt he pulled, it ripped out right as Socks popped in next to him.

"I'll get help," the elf said wringing its hands.

Dorian shook his head no and motioned the elf closer. Socks large eyes were tearing up as it leaned over Dorian, "Donn le neeone move me," Dorian whispered and his body went still.

"Master," Socks said and sank to the floor next to the body. The elf felt something roll off of its shoulder, it watched numb as a little wooden ball fell to the floor and slide along the wooden floor boards. Socks sniffed and retrieved the ball, "Cat," the elf whispered.

The elf sat and held vigil over its master's body the rest of the afternoon, evening and night. It was the next morning however, that the elf encountered a problem. Dorian had never gotten around to recasting the fidelius, because of this Lucius Malfoy would occasionally invite himself over. Normally, Socks would lock the floo and deny the man entrance. This morning the distraught elf didn't hear the floo call. When no one came to the floo, Lucius decided to go on through and considered it a boon that the infernal elf was nowhere sight. Walking past the dinning room table he caught sight of the invitation he'd sent and smirked. He stopped at the sound of crying. "Dorian?"

He pulled his wand and crept further down the hall, abruptly coming to a stop in front of what looked like a massacre. Dorian lay sprawled on the floor in front of the door, a huge pool of blood surrounded him. Lucius narrowed his eyes at the elf cowering next to the body, "What happened?"

Socks gasped and raised his head, his large bloodshot eyes wide. Pulling at his ears he shook his head, "There was nothing I could do," Socks wailed and thumped his head against the wall. Lucius took another step forward, his eyebrow twitched as his eyes traveled over the colorless porcelain skin. Though he'd never admit it, he found it completely unnerving to stare into those dead matte Malfoy eyes, "St Mungo's will have to be notified so they can remove the body," he quietly intoned.

Socks quickly stood and moved himself between Lucius and the body, "No!"

"No, master said not to let anyone move his body!" The little elf growled and bore his teeth at Lucius.

Malfoy gave the elf a glare and turned to go and call the hospital himself, when Socks popped right in front of him. The elf held it's hands out and sent a white shock of magic at Lucius. He stumbled back with the force of the shove and sneered at the elf raising his wand. "_Petrificus Totalus_," he spat. The body bind hit the elf, its body went rigid, its arms snapped to its sides and it fell over to the ground. Magic built in the air. Lucius could feel the swell of energy, his eyelid's half closed at the heady sensation. Turning to the body he saw it was encased in a golden glow. He watched in a state somewhere between horrified and awe, as color began to return to Dorian's skin. Those haunting flat silver eyes returned to life and blinked. Lucius gasped and took a step back as Dorian sat up and took a deep breath.

Dorian brought a hand to his neck and rubbed it, "Merlin, dying sucks," he mumbled. It was unfortunate that he'd not noticed Lucius standing there before he'd spoken. The blond was openly staring, his normal mask was cracking at the seams in what for him was an appalling show of emotion.

"So, you were dead," Lucius said his voice barely a whisper.

-0-

It took thirty minutes to get Lucius to leave. He had refused to answer any of the mans questions. Finally he left but shot Dorian a look that promised he'd get his answers. Unlike Lucius, Socks hadn't cared at all how Dorian had come back to life, only that he had. The elf had hugged him and then set about cleaning the mess in the foyer. Dorian took a shower and put on some clean clothes before heading to the library.

"Happy Birthday," Orion cheered from the portrait his smile faltering when he took in his grandsons appearance, "What's wrong?"

Dorian sat in the chair with sigh and explained to Orion about the accident and Lucius finding his body.

"Not good," Orion pursed his lips, "That man is already entirely too curious about you."

Dorian agreed with that statement whole-heartedly, of course any interest from Lucius, was too much. There was an article in this mornings daily prophet about the accident. Evidently, Stan and the driver had both died along with four muggles. There was no mention of any passengers on the bus, "Thank Merlin," he said and crumpled the paper up into a ball throwing it into the bin.

"I'll be back in a bit," Orion said and walked out of his portrait. Dorian hadn't realized that portrait was connected to any others. He pulled a book off the shelf and settled in to read. Not long after he was fast asleep, and book had fallen from his hand to the floor. He didn't know how much time had passed when the clearing of a throat woke him, but it was dark in the room now. With a snap of his fingers the candles in the room lit.

"It's about time he woke up, I have better things to do than wait around this dump all night," a drawing snide voice said from Orion's portrait. Dorian's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar voice. Glancing at the portrait he noticed there were three men standing in it now. Orion was on the right, to his left was a man so similar in looks he could only be his brother Cygnus and to the far left stood Abraxas Malfoy. He'd never actually seen the man before but there was no mistaking the pale hair and eyes. "Hello," Dorian croaked his voice rough still from sleep.

Orion beamed down at him in pride and turned to his companions, "Cygnus, Abraxas this is Dorian my grandson."

Abraxas quirked an eyebrow, "Our grandson you mean."

"Well yes I suppose that's true," Orion said slightly flustered.

"It's nice to meet you both," Dorian smiled.

"He doesn't look anything like you at all," Cygnus said and chuckled. Orion glared at his brother. "Really, he's like a mini-Malfoy, are you sure he's related to us?"

Dorian blushed under the harsh scrutiny, "So what brings you gentlemen here this evening?"

"We all chipped in and got you something for your birthday," Orion said with a particularly malicious smile.

"A present, what is it?" Dorian was about to ask what a portrait could give him when all three men picked up a chain that was laying on the floor of the portrait and gave it a significant tug. A couple of seconds later Albus Dumbledore was tugged into the painting trussed up like a turkey. The chain was coiled multiple times around the man and he was wearing a gag. Through his shock he muttered, "Where on earth did you find chains and a gag?"

"Old Brax had a few toys put into his painting, keeps the other portraits in line," Cygnus said.

"I see, and why would you bring Albus here?"

Albus was mumbling through the gag, words that Dorian hadn't known the old man knew.

"We need to know more about your problem, and this prick might know more than he's said," Orion glared at Albus, then gave the other two a signal. Cygnus and Abraxas said goodbye and went back to their own portraits.

"Can't exactly have this conversation in front of Abraxas, he'd tell that spawn of his," Orion frowned and took off the gag. "Thank you," Albus said while Orion removed the rest of his bindings and forced him to sit in the chair. Albus peered out from the portrait intently and sucked in a harsh breath, "Harry?"

"I go by Dorian now Albus."

"Of course—of course," Albus whispered, his eyes completely devoid of twinkle.

"What do you know of the Hallows?" Orion asked with an edge to his voice.

"Beyond what the items themselves are and the 'Tales of Beedle the Bard'? Not much I'm afraid," he offered politely.

"You knew the Hallows were real though, and had obviously sought them at one point, you gave me the stone to survive being killed—,"

Albus held up his hands, "I never sought the Hallows, an old friend did and they became his obsession, It was my understanding that you could contact those that had passed on with the stone, and that being the master of all three would allow you to come back from death once."

"What friend, maybe he knows something useful," Orion asked.

"Gellert is dead, Tom killed him some time ago."

"Grindlewald," Orion said with reverence, "Now _that_ was a dark lord."

Dorian rolled his eyes and sank back into the chair. "Why have you damned me?" He whispered.

"I wasn't trying to damn you Dorian. There are—," he paused and ran a hand through this beard. "There are magical artifacts far more dangerous than the Hallows, and Gellert found one—."

"I don't need a history lesson or a riddle—answers that's all I want," Dorian spat.

"Forgive an old man his narrative would you? As I was saying Gellert went in search of the Hallows, but instead found Wadjet, he was already set on world domination and intended to use it for that purpose."

"Wadjet?" Orion interrupted without care and poured himself a glass of whiskey, even handed one to Albus. The old man thanked him and continued on undaunted, "It's had many names, the green goddess, Hathor, Sekhmet, Bastet—Mut—more common I suppose would be the eye of Ra or Re sometimes Horus even," Albus rambled.

"Ancient Egyptian Gods," Dorian muttered and turned away.

"Wadjet, has been the eye of many leaders and so-called deities—in muggle legend it was said to have helped the Pharaoh defend his kingdom—but in magical histories in was a tad more nefarious."

Dorian glanced over at Albus and watched as the old man pulled a thin septre not much bigger than a wand, from his robe pocket. "This of course does nothing, it is but an echo of the real thing—much like myself," he held the thrice damned object up in front of his eyes. The body was two golden coiling serpents, topped with a sun disc that was held in place by the snakes open mouths. In the center of the disc was the eye of Ra, a brightly glowing green gem for its pupil.

"Nifty trinket," Orion mumbled.

Fury passed over Albus's face before he reigned himself in, "The eye defends by showing the future, it's unfortunate that it's said to cause madness in the user."

"Madness, you don't say," Orion slurred and poured himself another drink.

"How long did you have that?" Dorian asked.

"Gellert was practically unstoppable with this, I managed to take it from him a few months before our duel—I imagine the outcome could have been vastly different had I not." Albus sighed, "I tried to destroy it, but nothing worked, and I could not get myself to just leave it—so I brought it back with me, and for awhile I managed not to use it." Albus put the Wadjet back in his pocket and leaned back in the chair a look of pain on his face, " Tom was winning, there were spies in the ministry—families disappeared in the middle of the night—he worked like a muggle terrorist and it was very effective, you know this." Albus removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "I asked it when Tom would die, I wanted to see a future without him in it—instead it didn't show me anything. At that point Tom was immortal and so—,"

"It couldn't show you an impossibility," Dorian mumbled feeling goosebumps pop out on his arm.

"Exactly," Albus sighed and had a far away look in his eyes. "After that I asked it all sorts of things."

The old man turned his gaze back on Dorian, "Eventually I asked the right questions and I was shown a meeting with Sybill Trelawney, I'm sure you can guess what happened—except in the original vision the job interview took place at Hogwarts—because of that no one but myself heard the prophecy. Tom never went after Harry and the boy grew up to join him." Albus shuttered, "That was the darkest future I was ever shown."

"Obviously that couldn't happen, so I asked it what would happen if Tom heard of the prophecy, of course he went after the boy—and I watched hopeful as the curse rebounded, but it only knocked Tom from his body—and the boy died."

"What about Lily's sacrifice?"

"It worked, but the backlash from the rebound curse destroyed the house, and the ceiling fell onto the crib breaking his neck." Albus grimaced, "Without a hero, without the-boy-who-lived, history repeated itself. Tom got a new body and terrorized everyone, the ministry fell immediately and he won." Albus drank the whiskey and handed the glass to Orion who gladly refilled both his and Albus's glass, "No amount of tweaking created an outcome where Harry lived, and likewise Tom won in every scenario," Albus shot Dorian a pain filled glance, "So, I created a future where Harry lived," he whispered and wiped a tear from his cheek. "But, even that wasn't enough—there had to be a connection between you—so I," Albus swallowed loudly, "Well I knew there was more than one horcrux from your mother, I figured there was a good chance one was at Hogwarts. The elves helped me find it." Albus looked haunted, "I transferred the soul fragment from the diadem to you. After that it was a matter of keeping you with the Dursley's—there were several different futures where you were raised by various others and in each of those you went dark. So you had to stay with the muggles."

"What's wrong with being dark," Orion growled his words slurring badly.

"Nothing as long as the person in question isn't a terrorist," Albus shrugged.

Dorian wondered if it had been the soul shard that kept making him go dark. Even after everything he'd been through he'd consider himself a grey wizard, some dark spells were dead useful though. "What happened to that Wadjet thing?"

"It's hidden somewhere no one will ever find it," was all Albus would say. Dorian hoped Albus was right about that.

After a few moments of awkward silence Abraxas strut back into the frame, "Lucius has noticed that Albus is gone."

Albus frowned.

"What does Lucy do with Albus?"

"Who's Lucy?" Abraxas and Orion asked at the same time.

"It's your son Lucifer's nickname," he said and winked at Abraxas. He thought that old Malfoy was going to be mad, but to his surprise both him and Orion laughed.

Abraxas smiled, "_Lucy_ likes to shoot stinging hexes at Albus, it's a special hex Orion came up with that works on portraits."

Orion puffed up at the recognition, "I had always hoped Walburga would go before I did, sadly that wasn't the case and I never got to use it on her," he pouted.

"Is this necessary," Albus asked as Abraxas put the chain back around him.

"You know he prefers it when you can't run," Abraxas led Albus from the portrait.

Once they were gone Orion turned back to Dorian, "I feel a little sorry for Albus, maybe we can invite him over another time and he can regal us with tales of Grindlewald?"

"Uh, no—you can go visit him." Dorian didn't hate Albus as much as he had a year ago, but didn't see himself wanting to spend time with the man either.

-0-

In July Dorian had gotten a job at a book store in knockturn alley. It wasn't very glamorous and it hardly paid anything, but it was interesting. The Written Word, carried new and used books. It was owned and run by an ancient man named Gerald Marchbanks, brother of the infamous ministry employee Griselda Marchbanks. Griselda was infamous for having worked at the ministry from 1890-1995. The scary part was when Gerald said that Dorian might have heard of his younger sister—younger_._ Various people would come in throughout the day and sell their books to the store. In the two months that he had worked there, he had been able to replace all of Orion's lost books—plus found him a few rare volumes he'd always wanted. Dorian bought more of the books from people than the store did.

Repeat customers became friendly acquaintances. The man that he talked to the most, was a tall lanky blond, that looked familiar but could never quite place. He always came in with a stack of his family's books to sell. After a few weeks of this they would discuss certain books that both had read. Toward the end of August the man had complained he'd need to find a gift for a wedding he was going to the following week. Dorian started laughing and the guy looked at him like he was crazy, "Sorry, it's just that I got invited to a wedding for some arrogant spoiled git I can't stand, right? Well, anyway the guy and his family hate all things muggle so I bought him an electric muggle bread toaster and wrapped it up like it was something really fancy," Dorian cackled.

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about Draco Malfoy's wedding would you?" The guy asked with a chuckle.

"Er—maybe," Dorian hoped this guy wasn't friends with Malfoy, he might ruin the toaster surprise.

The man laughed, "That's good, I doubt Draco knows what a toaster is though."

He shook his head and frowned, "My dad was death eater, but he was a big hypocrite—whole house full of muggle appliances, we even had electricity," he chuckled. Dorian imagined some guy coming home from a death eater meeting and flopping down on the couch still in his mask—to watch some late night television.

"Well, I come from a long line of nutters too," Dorian shrugged. "It happens."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow and held out his hand, "Theo Nott."

"Dorian Black," he said and shook Theo's hand. It hadn't surprised him that he'd not recognized Theo, they weren't around each other much back in school. He could vaguely recall that the older Nott had been arrested after the fight at the DoM, but Theo was the only slytherin that hadn't seem to blame him for his fathers arrest. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had considered it all his fault that their dads were criminals.

"Are you going to the wedding of the season?" Theo asked in an exaggerated drawl.

"I have to go. Lucius put some kind of binding on the invitation, I touched the stupid thing and well—I'm going yeah." Dorian rambled.

Theo gave him a strange look, "He spelled the invitation, why?"

"He likes to annoy me," Dorian shook his head and picked up the latest stack of Nott's books. He wondered if Nott's father was still in azkaban, probably would in bad form to ask he thought. They worked out a price for the books and Nott took off after telling him he might see him at the wedding. Well at least there would be one person to talk to there.


	4. Chapter 4

a/n- Thanks for reading, reviewing, and alerting =) I'm a bit of a troll so I'll even thank the person who flamed me, I lol'd for a least a solid minute. ttfn.

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Unstable Elements - chapter 4

September 2nd 2001

"You look nice," Orion gave a nod of approval.

Dorian looked down at the suit he had purchased for the wedding, "It's not bad."

"Did Granger help you pick it out?" Orion's eyes were full of mirth.

"No, a lovely willowy brunette named Marissa picked it out—thank you very much."

"Marissa, eh?" Orion quirked an eyebrow.

"She worked at the shop where I bought it."

"Where is Granger anyway haven't seen the little mud—eh lady in a couple of days," Orion sheepishly slunk back a few paces at his slip.

Dorian glared at Orion.

Orion held up his hands, "Sorry, I'm trying."

Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, Dorian shot his grandfather a look of disapproval, "Hermione, got mad for some reason—I'll call her tomorrow."

Orion sat in his chair, propped an elbow on the arm and leaned his chin into his hand, "And what did Miss Granger get mad about?"

"Well, I was telling her about buying the suit and meeting Marissa—admittedly I was being a bit crass, but that woman had best ass I've ever—,"

Orion smirked, "She was jealous."

Dorian's mouth fell open, "No, that's ridiculous," he scoffed.

Orion barked out a laugh, "Right, so you were telling her about Marissa's finer attributes and she got mad?"

"Perfectly formed, but no I mentioned we had drinks and went back to hers," Dorian chuckled.

"Why didn't you bring her here, you could have introduced her to me—and then I could judge for myself how perfect she was," Orion winked.

"I couldn't bring her here, Marissa is a muggle," Dorian quirked an eyebrow waiting for the fallout of that revelation.

Orion's face turned a deep red and his nostrils flared, "A MUGGLE! I take it back, Granger wasn't jealous—she was disgusted!" Orion yelled and turned his back to Dorian.

"Oh, don't be like that. Marissa had magic—it just happened to be in her—,"

"Get out!" Orion growled.

"Going," Dorian laughed as he left the library.

-0-

The entrance hall in Malfoy manor, held none of the dark horrors he'd remembered from his last visit. The room was spartan and had very little in it beyond the extra-large fireplace. Full of natural light and freshly polished marble, it was a farce of exaggerrated normality. The heavy cloying fragrance of flowers hung in the air. Multiple massive floral arrangements that were placed about—might have been better served in a mausoleum. Two formally dressed house-elves were greeting those who arrived by floo. They walked the guests down a long hall. Dorian shuttered as he peered into an open door to his right. It was the formal dining hall, the place that Voldemort had held his court. The last time he'd caught a glimpse of it, there had been bones piled in the corner, no doubt the left-overs from one of Nagini's many human meals. He wondered if the family still held dinners in there, getting a little green at the thought.

Thankfully the ceremony and reception were both being held outdoors. By the time he stepped out into the sunshine, his skin was ready to crawl off. A path through the gardens led to a square clearing with a giant white tent. There were no poles, or hardware of any kind, it just hung suspended in the air. Inside a thousand fairy lights floated about under the canvas. "Groom's side," an elf said and ushered him toward the left side of the tent. His brow furrowed as the isle's passed and the elf escorted him to his place—in the second row of chairs—behind Lucius and Narcissa. The couple was talking quietly to one another, and paid him no mind.

As others were seated closer by, he felt a drip of sweat make its way down his back. Looking around nervously, he noticed that everyone but him were in fanciful wizard attire. Rubbing damp clammy hands against the slate grey suit pants that no longer seemed like a good idea, he let out a shaky breath. It wasn't that he cared what these people thought—no, it was fear of being the only outsider. He half expected to be cornered by some nutter and hexed for dressing like a muggle. Ten minutes into his nervous fit, a middle-aged couple was seated right next to him. To be polite he smiled and greeted them. The woman's eyes widened and she glanced at the back of Lucius's head, then began tittering. Her husband leaned in closer, they whispered furiously back and forth in French. He cursed Hermione in his head for not agreeing to come. She would have known what the two were saying. Their arguing became louder until Lucius turned in his seat. "He's my nephew—not my illegitimate child," Lucius said and the very corner of his mouth turned up, in what passed as a smile for him.

Lucius had practically chummed the water, and now the sharks were circling. Anyone close enough to have heard his declaration, was staring intently. Pushing up the expensive yet very muggle suit sleeve, he checked the time. He wondered if these people could smell his fear. A murmur made its way through the gathered mass as the bride and groom were escorted to the front platform. The priest, a tall man with hair red enough to make a Weasley jealous, smiled down at the couple.

"We have come together here in the celebration of the joining together of Astoria Sophia Greengrass and Draco Lucius Malfoy."

While everyone else was mesmerized, Dorian was surveying the many people on the bride's side. In the row across from his, sat Daphne the bride's sister and Pansy Parkinson. Just as he'd remembered her, Pansy looked as though she'd eaten something sour. The young woman's pug nose was wrinkled in distaste. Perhaps she still carried a torch for Draco, he thought. The priest's words washed over the crowd.

"The law of life is love unto all beings. Without love, life is nothing, without love, death has no redemption. Love is anterior to Life, posterior to Death, initial of Creation and the exponent of Earth. If we learn no more in life, let it be this."

Love unto all beings, he barely repressed a snort at the hypocrisy of that being said to these people. His eyes wandered back across the isle. Blaise Zabini was sitting ramrod straight, next to Pansy with his usual arrogant air of superiority. Beside Blaise was an ethereally beautiful woman in crimson, her deep brown eyes were staring back into his. His eyes widened in surprise as the woman gave him a thin self-satisfied smile. Brushing a black tendril of hair away from her face she quirked an elegantly shaped eyebrow and returned her gaze to the front.

" . . . I ask simply if she comes of her own will and if she has her family's blessing. Astoria, is it true that you come of your own free will and accord?"

Astoria smiled widely at Draco, "Yes, it's true."

"With whom do you come and whose blessings accompany you?"

At the priest's question Dorian shivered as a pulse of magic swept over the crowd. In unison those sitting on the right side said, "She comes with us, and is accompanied by all her family's blessings."

Goosebumps covered his arms as the energy seemed to grow. He had no idea if this was a standard magical wedding or not, but was certainly not expecting that. Lost in the feeling of excess magic, he was aware of something brushing against his own. A soft caress pulled at his own energy, joining it with those seated around him.

"Draco, if it be your wish for Astoria to be bound to you, place the ring on her finger."

Draco slipped a silver band onto Astoria's finger with a stone large enough to see from the back of the tent.

Dorian's body hummed and sparked with power. His half-lidded eyes glanced across the isle to find the dark-haired woman staring back at him. Unable to turn away he met her gaze, she tilted her head slightly—her hair fell away from the slim column of her neck. Her full red stained lips parted slightly. Heat consumed him as the tip of her pink tongue swept across her full bottom lip.

The priest handed a golden chalice to Draco, "May you drink your fill from the cup of love."

Draco held the cup to Astoria's lips as she sipped, then Astoria took the cup from him and held it to Draco's lips.

A whisper from the deep brown of her eyes burrowed into his consciousness, _'Dorian'_. He gave his head a shake trying to break the connection but was unable to look away.

"By the power vested in me from the Gods, and by the laws of the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your love so endure that it's flame remains a guiding light unto you. You may now kiss the bride," The priest smiled as Draco and Astoria shared a short but passionate kiss. He guided them to turn toward the crowd.

"I now present Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!"

Dorian could hear the excited whispers of the mass, but was still anchored to the brunette's stare. Blaise Zabini glanced over at the woman and narrowed his eyes, then followed her gaze to Dorian and scowled. Turning back to the woman, Blaise elbowed her in the side. She snickered and turned away. He sat there breathing heavily and tried to calm himself. All around him people began to stand and greet each other. Dorian stood and walked just outside of the tent, behind him the chairs winked out of existence. Now there was a string quartet set up on the stage, with an area for dancing in front of them. Small round tables with place settings took up the rest of the space.

His silver eyes scanned for an empty table away from the Zabini's. After a minute of close examination he found Theo Nott sitting by himself in the very back and made his way over.

"Care if join you?" He asked.

"Go ahead, I doubt anyone else will," Theo said with a thin smile.

He gave Theo a questioning look and Theo rolled his eyes, "I'm social suicide—sins of the father and all that, but by all means sit down and be despised with me," he laughed.

"I'm not sure that I care what anyone here thinks of me," Dorian shrugged and pulled out a chair on the other side of the table.

Theo smirked, "Yeah, nice suit by the way—Merlin you've got some balls showing up here in that."

Dorian shrugged, "I like this suit and have no desire to dress like a feudal Lord."

Theo nodded and the his body went rigid. Dorian felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck as Theo's eyes widened. The dark-haired woman who he now knew could only be the infamous Mrs Zabini, pulled out the chair closest to his and gracefully sat down.

"Hello," she greeted them her eyes alight with amusement.

"H-hi," Dorian stammered feeling himself blush. The side of her mouth turned up at his embarrassment.

"And how have you been doing Mr. Nott?"

Theo seemed to be looking everywhere but her face, "Good Mrs. Zabini and yourself?"

"Oh fine dear but please call me Zepha, Mrs makes me feel so old," she said and smiled showing off her radiantly white teeth.

"And you Dorian—it is _Dorian_ isn't it, we've not met," she inquired and held out her hand. Playing along he picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth brushing his lips against the back of it, "Dorian Black madame."

"Zepha, if you will darling," she said looking up at him through her thick black eyelashes.

Theo coughed into his hand snapping him out of his trance. He gave his head and shake and leaned back in his chair, away from her. A shadow fell across the table, "Mother, it's time we left," Blaise said with sneer.

"Not just yet—go play with Pansy, I'm getting to know my new friend Dorian," she purred.

Blaise huffed and glared at his mother before shooting off across the room.

"He's always trying to ruin my _fun_," she waved a hand dismissively at her son's retreating back.

Dorian was trying to think of a way to politely excuse himself when plates appeared on the table in front of them. A three-sided menu sat in the center, listing the various dishes available.

"Right, well I guess I'll have the chicken," Theo mumbled and tapped his plate. Ignoring Zepha for the time being, he ordered an overly exotic sounding pasta dish. Dorian wondered if Zepha was something akin to a veela, it was increasingly difficult to not look at her. The two men tried continually to engage Zepha in ordinary small talk, but the woman used every opportunity to overtly flirt with Dorian. Dinner was a harried affair, that was followed by an equally uncomfortable dessert. He sat picking at his fruit tart, as Zepha pursed her lips around a spoonful of crème brûlée. She moaned in delight, "This is to die for," she simpered. Collecting a portion on her spoon she held it out to him, "You should try a bite."

"No thanks, I've got my own," Dorian said and Theo snorted.

"Nonsense, I insist—you must taste this for yourself," her eyes met his and he felt himself waver. His mind felt fuzzy but vaguely he heard a whisper, _"taste,"_ it said. In a daze he leaned forward to comply when the spoon was smacked out of her hand. She huffed and crossed her arms over her ample chest, jutting out her chin, "What do you want Lucius?"

"Just making sure everyone is enjoying themselves," Lucius said and then put his hands on the back of Zepha's chair. He leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear, "It would be wise for you to leave Dorian alone."

Zepha shuttered and gave a nod, "Of course Lucius—I was only getting to know Dorian, no harm done," she gave him a tight smile. Lucius grunted and strutted off back to his own table. Zepha took her napkin from her lap and placed it on her plate, "I believe it's time for me to go, until we met again Dorian," she ran a finger down his cheek. A tingle raced along the flesh she touched and he felt himself involuntarily shiver.

Once she was gone he pulled himself together and looked over at Theo, "Is she a veela or something?"

"I'm not sure, but the woman is definitely dangerous, if I were you I'd avoid her like the plague," Theo replied folding his own napkin onto his plate. "She's always been like that—but _that _was the _worst _ I've ever seen her behave, you have caught her eye."

"Brilliant, I'm never leaving my house again," Dorian chuckled.

"What, you don't want to be husband number eight?" Theo scoffed.

Thankfully the conversation turned to books. Theo was talking about bringing some of his father's rarer books in to sell. Dorian's ears perked at a few of the titles. Orion had infected him with a need to collect. If he didn't stop buying soon he'd need to expand the library. "Well, 'The vile curses of Herpo the foul', is banned from public sale, however a friend of mine found a loop-hole for me," Dorian offered.

"Yeah, that'd be great because I'd really like to get rid of the rest legally," Theo added in.

"Private family collections can be traded to individuals, as long as no witch or wizard in residence is under the age of majority."

"Really? I didn't know that." Theo said contemplative.

"Well, I wouldn't have known it either, but when I started working at the bookstore my friend Hermione decided to educate me in all the current laws that would effect the business."

"Hermione—Granger?" Theo asked as both of his eyebrows shot up.

Dorian cursed himself for the slip, "Yeah, do you know her?"

He was surprised when Theo remained impassive and just nodded, "We went to Hogwarts at the same time." He smirked and added, "It doesn't surprise me that she'd have all the laws memorized, she spent more time in the library than me—and I practically slept there."

The scraping of a chair against the floor caught both of their attentions as Pansy Parkinson sat down at the table. "Hello Theo, how have you been?"

"Good you?"

She scowled, "I'd be better if my date hadn't stormed off with his _mother_, Merlin I _hate _ that woman," she said with venom. "Who's your friend?" Pansy asked and nodded her head toward Dorian.

"Pansy meet Dorian Black," Theo said without ceremony and absently waved a hand between the two.

"Pleasure," Pansy drawled.

"Er—likewise," Dorian gave her a tight lipped smile and clenched his jaw. He had never liked Pansy.

"I want to dance," she pouted. "And I think that since it's your fault," she poked him in the chest, "That my date left—you should dance with me."

"It wasn't his fault that the black widow took a liking to him," Theo laughed.

"I dunno I'm not that great of a dancer," Dorian frowned at the thought of having to touch Pansy.

"You'll be fine," she stood and grabbed his hand pulling him to his feet. She led him through the tables to the dance floor right as a new song started. She smiled as he fumbled through were to put his hands, "Relax, I don't bite."

Toward the end of the song Pansy snickered, "My, my aren't you popular."

"Hmm?"

"Daphne's headed this way, I think you just found yourself another dance partner."

Daphne Greengrass the girl he remembered from Hogwarts as the slytherin ice queen, did indeed ask him for the next dance. She kept him out on the dance floor for the next three songs as well, until her cheeks were colored.

"Have a drink with me?" she asked.

"Sure, why not." Dorian nodded at the statuesque blonde as she led him to the bar.

Sitting on the stool next to her, he leaned over to ask her something when someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. Turning he sighed at the sight of Rita Skeeter.

"A little bird just told me that you're Lucius Malfoy's nephew," an eyebrow shot up past her gaudy glasses.

"Er—well—," he stammered.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you at last years Hogwarts gradation?"

"Well I was—,"

"You were there with Miss Hermione Granger correct?" She asked with a steel glint in her eyes, her acid green quick quotes quill was bobbing away over her shoulder. His eyes blinked against the flash as her photographer Bozo snapped sever rapid shots of him and Daphne.

"Interesting company you'd keep hmm, perhaps trying to undo some of the disgrace the end of the war brought to the Malfoy name," she leered. "Or, are you two an item now—last I heard the little trollop was still following Mr. Weasley like a stray," she shrugged.

"Now, listen that's—."

"Lucius Malfoy's nephew cohorting with a muggleborn," she said with glee. Her sharp eye raking over his attire, "Or maybe your rebelling," she pinched the end of his sleeve and sniffed. He jerked his arm out Rita's grasp. He opened his mouth to retort when her eye strayed to another guest, "Oh, it's Minister Oblansk," she said glancing at Bozo who shrugged. She sighed, "The Bulgarian Minister of Magic, you great oaf."

Grabbing Bozo's arm she led him away, "Make sure you get a shot of us together!"

-0-

Dorian sat eating his breakfast, staring in horror at the daily prophet. There on page two was an article about the wedding, and below that—was one about him. He wasn't sure where Rita had gotten the photo, but it was of him and Hermione hanging out together at the bookstore. They were leaning toward each other laughing about something. Rita had drug Hermione's name through the mud once again. He had expected an article about how he was using Hermione to better the Malfoy name as she'd suggested—but instead found one about a muggleborn that had managed to snag another pure-blood, this time one related to Lucius Malfoy. Dorian cringed, when Hermione saw this she was going to kill someone—probably him. He dropped his head to the table and groaned.

"Dorian, Miss Granger is calling should I let her through," Socks asked.

He wanted to say no, "Yes," he mumbled.

"Did you see the paper! Did you see what that awful woman wrote!" Hermione screeched before she'd even reached the room. He lifted his head up knowing this would be bad by the state of her hair. It was practically alive, the frazzled tendrils waved around her like living things, "If I catch her again ," she muttered and flopped into the chair across from him. Making a fist she slammed it on the table-top, "I'll squash the life right out of her—the nerve of that woman, arghh!"

She looked deranged and gave a maniacal chuckle, "I've already served her papers, we'll see what that bug has to say in court next week—she should have kept up with my career instead of speculating about my love life."

Dorian blinked at her, "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," she spat then eyed him speculatively, "Did something happen at the wedding?"

He spent the next half hour or so, telling her everything that had happened.

"Mrs. Zabini, sounds delightful—wonder what she is?" Hermione mused.

The rustle of wings and pecking against the window could be heard. He shot a weary glance in the direction of the kitchen, "Socks, could you let the owls in?"

Socks opened the kitchen window, his large eyes wide as dozens of owls poured in and headed for the dinning room. Hermione sat slack jawed as the birds flew in. Some of the owls simple dropped a package or a letter and flew back out. Others lit upon every available surface waiting patiently to relieve themselves of items tied to their legs. "Could you help get some of the letters?" He asked.

Hermione helped untie several scrolls shooing the owls out as she went. It took some doing but eventually all the birds were gone, and they were left with a giant pile of mail. Having learned his lesson a long time ago, he summoned a pair of gloves and put them on before opening the first letter. He barked out a laugh halfway through reading it.

"What is it?" She asked.

"An offer of marriage," he rolled his eyes and sat it aside. Summoning another pair of gloves he handed them to Hermione, "I could use some help?"

She sighed, "Fine, but you owe me for this."

They sat there sorting through the mail occasionally laughing. There were three distinct piles now, hate mail, marriage proposals and a third they'd solely defined as oddities. A second wave of owls rushed into the room ahead of a frazzled elf. "Merlin, there's more."

"Uh, oh," Hermione whispered.

"What?" He looked at the four owls circling steadily closer—howlers. The first owl dropped it's missive and fled, the silence broken by a woman screaming.

**"How dare someone from the ancient and noble house of Black sully himself with a MudBlood! You should be ashamed of yourself carrying on with filth. I hope you rot!" **

The letter ripped itself to shreds and caught on fire with a poof. Hermione was glaring at the spot where it had been.

"I'm sorry Hermione."

The second and third howler were more of the same, shouting obscenities and insulting him for being seen with Hermione. The third even suggested he might be hygienically challenged. The forth one though was unlike any either had seen. Howlers were always red, but this one was black. The eagle owl that had carried it did not run off, instead it waited—for a show or reply—he didn't know. The coal black envelope morphed slowly into a woman's face. In a calm deadly voice barely over a whisper it talked.

"You, and people like you, _disgust_ me. You laugh and dance and celebrate when you all belong in Azkaban. It's not surprising that the Malfoy family would only be slapped on the wrist—yet again. One day though, all of the death eater scum will get what they deserve."

When the message ended, the howler didn't rip up and burn like the others. The woman's paper lips pursed and it blew out a thick black cloud. Dorian stood and yanked Hermione away from the table as the black dust settled all over the table, chairs and floor. They watched in horror as the dust began to sizzle against everything it touched and burned through it like acid. He swallowed loudly as the table disintegrated along with the chairs into a bubbling writhing mess on the floor.

"That—I can't believe that just happened," Hermione said as the tar-like substance bubbled and popped. The eagle owl that had delivered the offensive missive screeched and took to the air, swooping low over his head before circling out of the room.

Dorian fire-called law enforcement, but the auror who came had said there was no way to identify the sender. A branch of Gringott's that dealt with wards, curses and clean-ups arrived later that day—to deal with what goblin had called a level four problem. The slime had eaten its way straight through the floor and was pooling in the basement. While they were there he'd also had his mail wards changed so that no future howlers could get through.

-0-

"What do you think about knocking out the wall between the library and the study, to expand it?" Dorian asked Orion as he examined the wall in question.

"It would fine," Orion said curtly.

"Are you still mad at me?" Dorian snorted, "That was a week ago."

Orion's face was an unemotional stoney mask, "I am still angry, but I do like the idea of a larger library."

"Old man Nott's son is looking to relieve himself of the rest of his father's books," Dorian added and shot Orion a knowing look. There was no way that Orion could hide being happy about that prospect.

"Really?" Orion smiled clearly interested.

"Yeah, several of the titles are banned from public sale—so I'm working toward buying them legally as part of a private estate sale." Dorian shrugged, "Should be some really eye-catching titles in the bunch. Nott said there was still over a thousand titles left in the collection, including that vile Herpo book you've whined about." He knew he had Orion then, the man was a sucker for dark arts books.

"Herpo's book?" Orion asked excitedly, "OK, I'm not mad anymore just don't tell me anymore stories about you and _muggles_," he sneered.

"Deal," he gave Orion a nod and left for the book shop.

Mr. Marchbanks had contracted dragon pox, a very serious thing at his advanced age. Dorian wasn't sure if the old man was going to pull through. He'd been working the shop open to close since the day after the death howler. Yesterday, he'd closed for twenty minutes to run out and grab some lunch. As he was walking past a younger woman with a small child, she'd sneered at him and spit on the ground. It seemed a little unfair. Some of the light families and supporters were acting as though he were a convicted death eater. And the dark families, well a lot of them had branded him a muggle-loving blood traitor. Theo thought it was funny, of course no one had melted his dinning room. Nott came into the store on an almost daily basis now. He supposed it was nice having another real friend—even if he did have to share Hermione. In an even stranger turn, Hermione and Theo were thick as thieves.

Next week, thanks to Hermione, Theo would finally be taking his first step past the long shadow his father had cast. She had convinced law division to give him an internship. He didn't know which one of them was more excited. This was the first friend Hermione had ever had that shared her love of knowledge. Either one of them could recite entire passages they'd only read once. An excellent skill to have when studying something as boring as collections of hundred year old laws. Around noon Hermione popped in on her lunch break and handed him a bag of muggle fast food.

"You're a life saver," he stuck his face into the bag and inhaled.

"Did you convince him to knock down the wall?" Hermione ask practically vibrating in anticipation.

"Yeah, he said yes," Dorian smiled at his friend.

"Yes!" She shouted. "I suppose you didn't tell him that the expanded library would no longer be under his insipid Black blood wards," she laughed.

"No, I didn't tell him that you'd be able to go into the new and improved library—I'll leave that for you to do in person." He grunted as Hermione gave him a bone crushing hug.


End file.
